Not As Planned
by Galadriel1010
Summary: Another AU version of the development of Jack and Ianto's relationship. Based on Scmoop Bingo prompts and told in 25 parts. Will be so sweet it'll rot your teeth; you have been warned. Contains mPreg, canon character death and fluff
1. Matchmaker

**Author's Notes:**

You may be aware, if you're reading Continuity Error or following me on Twitter, or on Facebook, or any other the other places I get around, that I've just moved to Australia for 6 months. Hence the long delays on updating anything, because I've spent the last several months planning for this trip and stressing out about it, which has drained all of my writing passion.

So this story is a propted story from my Schmoop Bingo card, a challenge which is running on LiveJournal, which will be told in the twenty five prompts off my card.

* * *

Prompt 4: Matchmaker.

Jack and Gwen were having another shouting match, about the usual subject – Jack knew that the Griftok they'd 'neutralised' last night was too dangerous to be left loose or even for the team to get any closer to it than they needed to to shoot it, whereas Gwen knew that it was injured and hadn't meant to hurt anyone, and if they'd only tried to communicate with it they could have brought it in without any further loss of life. Now they were inches apart, still shouting as if they were on opposite sides of the room, and Tosh knew that she was going to get a headache.

Ianto put a mug down next to her hand and she smiled up at him tightly, giving him a nod of thanks. He was still creeping around the Hub, avoiding their gazes, but it was so clear that he wanted and needed to be noticed. With a glance at Jack and Gwen, now debating the ethics of keeping Janet in the cell (loudly), he returned her nod and turned away. Tosh paused, looked at them, and called out, "Ianto?"

He stopped and half turned, looking over his shoulder at her. "Yes, Tosh?"

"Would you mind if I came down to the archives to try out this scanner?" She waved it at him. "I think I've got it working again."

His gaze flicked to the stack of files on her desk, then followed hers to the oblivious debating competition. "Of course not, Tosh. It's the Archives, you're allowed down there whenever you like."

She got up and followed him down, letting him lead the way through the catacombs to one of the archiving offices, where he stopped in the doorway. "You can use this office, if you like," he rested one hand on his hip and the other twitched, as if he were restraining himself from running it through his hair. "Or if you just want to get away from them, you could..." he shook his head. "Sorry, I'd better get back to work."

"Ianto, what were you going to suggest?" Tosh stopped him with a hand on his arm, which she dropped quickly.

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then put both hands on his hips. "Well, I wondered, if you wanted to be out of their way... my office has room to sit, but not to work..."

She smiled and rested her hand on his arm again, flexing her fingers gently against the fine wool. "I wouldn't mind the company."

His smile was brief, but brilliant, and he nodded, more relaxed than she'd seen him in a long time. He led her a bit further on, to a larger office which was filled with boxes of paper with a desk and three chairs in the middle of it. Ianto had to clear boxes off one of the chairs so that she could sit down, though. "I'm sorry it's a mess," he told her, sounding like he was regretting the invitation, "It's normally just me down here."

She put the scanner down on top of a stack of boxes and looked around. "What are you doing down here?"

"Checking that all the files are on the system," he sat down in the wooden chair behind the desk and folded his hands are in front of him. "I'm having to cross reference all the file references to make sure that they all got put in in the 1990s, before the Archives got abandoned, and then check the ones that don't come up haven't been put in incorrectly, like someone put a 2 instead of a Z..." he trailed off and shuffled the papers in front of him. "It... it doesn't matter, really."

"Future archivists will love you," Tosh pointed out gently. "They'll worship you as a God. Now..." she cut him off. "I can either distract you, or help you with it. Which would you prefer?"

He smiled back at her. "We should probably do some work. Don't want Jack to get jealous, do we?"

Was that a joke? Tosh wondered, nodding cheerfully and pulling the 'to do' stack towards her so that she could read out the file numbers for Ianto. Just since they'd been down here, he seemed to have brightened up. In fact, she'd seen him smile more since they came down here than she had in a fortnight. Was all it took a bit of companionship? Was he really that starved of it?

She watched him from behind her fringe as they sorted the pile into 'filed' and 'to do part 2'. The work didn't take much effort on either of their parts, so it gave her plenty of opportunity to consider the problem that was Ianto Jones and, in part, Jack Harkness. Ianto was wilting away in the darkness, starved of human contact and recognition. Jack was on a collision course with Gwen which would end in either them shagging or him firing her, neither of which he would forgive himself for. Maybe if his efforts were diverted, everyone would benefit?

Ianto coughed and she looked up at him, blinking through her fringe. He looked amused. "Is that report really that riveting, Tosh?"

She pushed it away and got the next one, not noticing the extremely familiar signature at the bottom. "Sorry, yes, it was. Weevils never change."

He nodded and put the next code she read out for him into the computer, and she returned to plotting, determined not to get so distracted that the subject of her contemplation noticed this time.


	2. Posing As A Couple

Prompt 18: Posing as a couple

A month after the Ashtok incident, three weeks after their trip to the countryside, Jack pulled the SUV up to the curb and looked up at the brightly lit bar front. "Are you sure this is the place, Tosh?"

"Yes, Jack. It's one hundred metres to your left, now."

Ianto pulled a face. "Oh God, it's in a gay bar."

Jack looked at him sharply, pulling away from the curb to find the car park. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ianto eyed him warily. "I always get groped inappropriately in gay clubs."

Letting out a bark of laughter, Jack relaxed slightly. "Well that's to be expected. I have told you you have a fabulous arse, haven't I?"

"I... yes, sir," Ianto choked and eyed him balefully. "But I object to being groped by strangers."

"Am I allowed to grope you, then?" he pulled into a parking space and smirked at Ianto in the darkness.

Ianto was silent for a while, chewing his lower lip. "I'd rather you did, sir."

Jack had to think about that one before he got it. "Wait, you're asking me to grope you... not to not grope you?"

"Yes, sir."

He bought himself time by unfastening his safety belt and getting out of the SUV, whilst Ianto did the same on the other side. Finally, he confessed. "I don't understand."

The orange streetlight above them cast Ianto's features into strange relief as he tipped his head back and sighed. "Sir, I'd rather go into that bar and have people think that I'm off limits... Unless you'd rather go in there with people thinking you're available," he added quickly.

Jack shook his head and came around the car to stand in front of Ianto. "Maybe we could both do without the distraction," he conceded, resting his hands on Ianto's shoulders. "But you're going to have to look more relaxed than that."

"Sir?"

"And stop calling me 'sir'," he added firmly, tugging at Ianto's suit jacket. "Now. We're going to go in there, looking like two blokes out for a night out together. We'll get some drinks, enjoy each other's company, get what we're after, and leave. Okay?"

Ianto's tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he drew in a sharp breath when Jack's hand brushed under his jacket to remove it. "And we look rather too dressed up for that?" he guessed.

"Exactly," Jack managed to get him out of the jacket and gave him a critical glance. "Okay, ditch the tie and undo your top buttons, roll your sleeves up a bit, and you'll do."

Whilst Ianto did as he was told, somewhat bewildered, Jack hung his jacket over the back of the passenger seat and removed his own coat and slung it over onto the driver's seat, then unclipped his braces and threw them onto the back seat, followed by his shirt. When he was down to his tight white shirt, he peered at his reflection in the wing mirror to comb his hair into something a bit more casual, then ran his hands through Ianto's hair and took his tie off him. "That's for later."

Ianto nodded and swallowed, and reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet. "Right... can I buy you a drink, Jack?"

"Only if I get to buy you one," Jack smiled back.

They were leaning against the bar a while later, both with weak mixers in their hands, trying to find something to say. Not that they could hear themselves over the music, a song which neither of them recognised or liked. Past Ianto's shoulder Jack saw a couple of guys looking at them, and moved closer to Ianto, resting his free hand on his hip and rubbing the bone with his thumb. "Don't worry, just someone looking at us."

Ianto blinked and leaned towards him casually, brushing his lips against Jack's cheek and taking him by surprise. That close, he could whisper, "Do you think they recognise us?"

Jack shook his head, just enough to reciprocate the gesture. "I think they fancy us."

When Ianto tensed, Jack slid his arm around his waist fully and rested their cheeks together. "Oh Ianto Jones, you don't see it, do you? Most of the guys here would take you home if you let them, and the others are just here with their gay mates."

Ianto's breath puffed unsteadily over Jack's neck, meaning that he'd dropped his head, trying to hide. Just when Jack was going to pull back and make him look at him, he spoke. "Would you take me home? Or are you not most men?"

Slowly, Jack pulled back so that he could see Ianto's face and read the nervousness in his tight smile. Wanting to wipe it away, he leaned in and pressed his lips against Ianto's, just for a second. "For you, Ianto, I'll be anyone."

"I wouldn't let just anyone take me home," Ianto's smile had grown a little less nervous, a little more daring. "It would have to be someone special."

"How special?" he grunted as his comm. unit beeped in his ear and Ianto turned awy, back to his drink. "Yes, Tosh?"

"The signal's gone, did you see anything?"

He looked around and cursed softly. "No, Tosh, we didn't see anything. Are you sure it's gone?"

She sighed. "Definitely gone. I'll set about finding it..."

"Don't, Tosh," Jack planted his hand firmly on Ianto's arse and smiled at him. "It's late, go home. I'm going to take Ianto home. We'll see you tomorrow."

Ianto raised an eyebrow at him. "You're taking me home, are you?"

"Yes I am," he pulled Ianto into his arms and kissed him again. "As long as you think I'm up to the challenge?"

Laughing, Ianto tangled his hands in Jack's hair, moaning softly at the feeling of just being held. "You could never be just anyone even if you tried, could you?"


	3. Unexpected Date

Ianto hauled himself off the bed to open the door and found himself face to face with his least favourite person in the world, after Katie Price. He bit back a sigh, held the door at a polite but unwelcoming angle and tried to look interested. "Sir, can I help you?"

Jack wasn't trying to hide anything like Ianto was; maybe he thought it'd make him more forgiveable if he looked hurt; maybe he'd just got tired of hiding, or maybe he'd not been gone as long as he had, and he still didn't feel he needed to hide himself around Ianto. As much as he really, really hated Jack right then, he knew that he'd been the only one Jack could be like that with, and he did look like he needed it – his hands were in his trouser pockets, hair dishevelled, eyes tight with pain and slightly red. He took a deep breath and met Ianto's eyes. "What date is it?"

"June twenty third," he supplied. "Two thousand and seven, so you've only been gone nearly three months, not... however long you think you've been gone..." he contemplated Jack's shocked expression and inability to think. "You were expecting half an hour, weren't you?"

"I... no, not half an hour," Jack studied his face and sighed. "Not three months, though. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

He turned away, and Ianto had to say something, anything, to lessen some of that pain. "What do you think it's worth?"

Jack looked back at him and tried to raise one of his eyebrows in an interested manner, but it still came across as nervous and melancholy. "I think it's one of those gifts the value of which is decided by the receiver, not the giver." His expression said that he had a feeling that it wasn't worth a lot by that definition.

And maybe Ianto was a glutton for punishment, or just too soft by half, but he couldn't leave him thinking that. "That sort of gift changes in value depending on the receiver's mood at the time."

"It does."

"So maybe you should buy me dinner and cheer me up?" he suggested, strangely gratified by the hopeful look in Jack's eyes. "We missed out on a few dinner nights whilst you were gone."

Jack nodded sadly, and Ianto decided that it was longer ago for Jack than it was for him, rather than more recent. Still, the bright, brittle smile returned, and Jack held out his hand. "We'll have to play catch-up. I want to make it up to you."

Ianto hesitated only a moment before he took the offered hand, and let Jack curl his fingers around it, just holding for a moment. He was staring at their joined hands, looking for something Ianto couldn't see, and took a while to look up. "Except that the restaurant's closed..." he sighed and squeezed Ianto's hand. "I should have let you sleep and offered you breakfast instead."

"It might not have worked," Ianto pointed out, "Better to strike whilst the iron's hot. They're still doing room service."

"Yeah, but room service requires being in one of our rooms," Jack hesitated. "I didn't think you'd... Well, connotations and all that."

Ianto nodded his understanding. "We can eat in your room, then you can walk me back to mine after." 

To his credit, even Jack's eyebrows didn't respond to that; he just laced his fingers through Ianto's and tugged gently. "Got your key?" 

"Oh... no, I'd..."

"Go and get it," Jack released his hand and stepped back. "We don't want you getting locked out and having to stay in my room instead, do we?"

Ianto busied himself trying to find his key rather than analyse Jack's wistful tone and nodded his agreement. "I think it's a bit early for that, yet."

When he looked around, Jack was leaning in the doorway, feet carefully outside the room and eyes fixed on a point on the floor. He seemed to notice Ianto's attention, because he looked up slowly and smiled. "Got it?"

"Yeah, I've got it," he slid it into his pocket and came to join Jack in the doorway. "Is it far?"

Jack shook his head. "I'm just down at the end of the corridor. They didn't have many rooms close together, but I..." he swallowed hard and Ianto fell into step with him. "I didn't want to be too far away. From you, I mean... I..."

"Jack, stop," Jack stopped completely and Ianto turned on him with a sigh. "I want to go on a date with you, yes. I want to have dinner with you tonight, as well. I'm not going to change my mind; you don't have to keep trying to persuade me."

"I'm not trying to persuade you," Jack insisted, starting walking again. "I just wanted you to know that I meant it, I came back for you."

"I know. I know," he repeated more quietly, realising that his first exclamation had been too loud for a hotel corridor at going on for midnight, and for Jack's strange nervousness. "It's just going to take me a while to believe that."

"Okay," Jack smiled brittlely and dipped his head. "I've got the time to wait."

Ianto was taken aback by the bitterness. "You... oh, he couldn't..."

"No, nothing he could do," Jack shook his head quickly and gestured to the next door. "This is me. Could we leave this outside the door? You can fill me in on the world of celebrity dating since I went, or something."

He laughed in spite of himself. "Now that I really don't know, but... yeah, we can change the subject."

Jack's room was just like Ianto's, with half of the room given over to a double bed and a desk and the other half taken up by a dining table with comfortable armchairs rather than dining chairs. His coat was hanging up in the open wardrobe, and the door to the bathroom was ajar, but apart from that the room gave the appearance of being unoccupied.

All of them apart from Jack had been able to change on arriving at the hotel, because they kept a change of clothes in the SUV for emergencies. Jack never had, despite going through more shirts than the rest of them put together (if Ianto hadn't figured out from the Archives that Jack was immortal, the terrifying amounts of blood and the destruction of his shirts would have tipped him off. Still, it had come as a shock to see him killed...) he shut that train of thought down and watched Jack cross the room to pick up the room service menu, his actions missing a lot of the easy grace that Ianto had found so captivating. He accepted the menu from Jack and sat on the edge of the bed, patting the covers next to him. "We can both look at once."

Jack sat on the edge of the bed, not quite touching Ianto, and peered over his shoulder at the extravagant descriptions. Trying to keep his mind on food, and not on the absurdly comforting feel of Jack so close to him, Ianto ran his finger down the menu and translated the descriptions. "Fruit salad, melon, potato and ham soup, potato and leek soup, bread and pate..."

"Why don't they do sensible food?" Jack asked as his stomach rumbled. "It's midnight, we want room service, can't we just get stir-fry chicken and vegetables, or is that just too complicated for them?"

"Um... they have sweet and sour chicken, I think," Ianto pointed it out and Jack leaned in to study it, brushing his shoulder against Ianto's. "Unfortunately," he added to distract Jack as he moved closer to lean into Jack as well, "I'm not as fluent in garbage as I used to be."

Jack laughed and went to pick the phone up, leaving Ianto feeling cold again. "What are you having?"

"Oh, erm, chicken makhani, thanks," he shifted on the bed and put the menu down in his lap whilst Jack made the order. When he hung up, he turned back to Ianto and leaned on the desk, smiling at him fondly. Ianto shifted. "What?"

"No, I just..." he smiled again, mostly to himself and then looked at Ianto seriously. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"You..."

"I didn't want that," Jack shook his head and came to sit on the bed again. "So, anyway... celebrity dating."

xxxxx

They stood outside Ianto's room, both feeling warm from the wine and companionship they'd shared. On impulse, Ianto leaned in and pressed his lips against Jack's, just for a second. "I could invite you in for coffee," he suggested, as off hand as he could manage.

Jack shook his head, though, and didn't try to repeat the kiss. "I don't think that would be a good idea. You need to think about it, make sure this is what you want..."

"It is."

"And sleep," Jack added firmly. "You're exhausted. I'll see you for breakfast?"

Ianto nodded and stepped back, fumbling in his pocket for his key. Jack was right, he was beyond tired, and bed seemed like a wonderful idea (although a bed with Jack in it as well would have sounded even better). "It's your job to make sure that I don't sleep through breakfast, okay?"

Jack laughed and turned away. "I'll see you in the morning, Ianto."

He smiled to himself and got the door open, then turned around. "Oh, Jack?" Jack looked over his shoulder and stopped halfway down the corridor. "Just because it's impossible to beat two and a half months late, doesn't mean you have to try for future dates."

Jack laughed and Ianto slipped into his room, collapsing forwards onto the bed to think about the next step.


	4. Minor Injury

**Author's Note:** Prompt for this one is Minor Injury. Jack and Ianto miss out on their first real date because of a collision between a Ianto and a brick wall.

I'm hoping that the timeline is reasonably evident in the stories, but some prompts are harder to fit in. Either way, it's all in chronological order, and something will crop up now and again to fit it to the timeline in some way... I hope.

* * *

Ianto felt like shit. It was to be expected, Owen had assured him unnecessarily; colliding with the wall had given him a bruise the size of the moon, which he was currently applying ice to, nausea, dizzy vision and short term memory loss, and Owen had congratulated him on getting almost all of the symptoms of concussion in one go. Oh, and a headache that could have wiped out the population of Wales.

The light switched on and he screwed his eyes tight shut, pulling the duvet over his head and whimpering softly. He was too tired and grumpy to fight the duvet being tugged down, though, and turned his face into the sofa as gentle fingers combed through his hair. "Ianto, come on out of there," Jack urged him in a whisper. "I need to take the ice away."

"Can't move," he whined, turning his head even further to let Jack comb through his hair better, brushing his nose against the wet towel that held the bag of ice. "Head hurts."

"I know it does, but you're going to freeze to the sofa if we don't move that ice," Jack teased, sliding his hand down to cup Ianto's cheek in gentle fingers and lift his head off the ice. "And the sofa will get wet."

Ianto nuzzled his cheek into Jack's hand, a stark contrast against the cold of the ice, and moaned again. His head hurt so much, he felt like he was going to die, and he told Jack so.

"You're not going to die," Jack told him, without any of the worry that Ianto thought was appropriate when one's... whatever they were to each other, and weren't they supposed to be on a date tonight? Well, Jack wasn't sufficiently worried that Ianto might die instead of getting their date. He used his hand under Ianto's cheek, and his other lifting his shoulders, to help him sit up just enough to sit down in the wet patch and lay Ianto back down with his head in Jack's lap and Jack's fingers running through his hair gently. "There, isn't that better?"

"Better," Ianto agreed thickly, turning his head so that his face pressed into Jack's stomach and his bruise was free from any constriction or pressure.

Jack's fingers brushed over it gently, but still enough to hurt, and he hissed. "Sorry, sorry," Jack apologised, going back to stroking his hair. "My poor baby, you really don't cope well with concussion, do you?"

Ianto tried to growl, but it came out as more of a groan. "Shut up and let me die," he whined.

"You are not going to die, Ianto Jones," Jack insisted firmly, and too loudly for Ianto's liking. He lowered his voice and resumed stroking. "You're not allowed to die until we've had our date."

"I'm sorry, Jack," he whispered, nuzzling his stomach as it was all he could reach.

"Not your fault," Jack soothed him and started rubbing at his shoulders. "You did well today."

"I got thrown into a brick wall, apparently," he shook his head disbelievingly.

"You did, and you scared me. I'm rather attached to you, Ianto Jones," his voice was as gentle as his hands on Ianto's head and shoulders, unwinding the tension and soreness. "But you were good out there. Ah, I'm getting too old for this."

Ianto pulled back a little to look up at Jack. "Not old."

"I am, I'm very old," he resumed his gentle rubbing and sighed. "You lot, you're going to drive me into an early grave."

Ianto snorted and laid his head back in Jack's lap, regretting his amusement. He let himself drift off, with Jack's hands soothing his hurts and Jack's warmth keeping him safe.


	5. Greetings Card

**Author's Note;** The internet has gone down at my flat. I am /very/ annoyed by this fact, and it's going to slow down updates and replies. Thanks for all the reviews, I will be able to reply to them soon, I hope

* * *

Ianto woke slowly and reluctantly, pleased to discover that he was at least in his own bed. The warm light of late morning washed across the room through a gap in the curtains, and he settled back into the mountain of pillows around his head. He wasn't quite sure where Jack had found them all, but he was grateful for the support they gave. Memories drifted through gently, memories of Jack's warm hands running a hot bath, cleaning him, redressing him in warm pyjamas and then tucking him into bed, almost clumsy in their careful tenderness, as if Ianto were suddenly breakable and Jack didn't really know what to do with him. Maybe he didn't; concussion wasn't exactly something that could be made better with a kiss, a chat, a hug, a blowjob – not that they'd actually returned to that stage yet, a good night's sleep... He'd needed Jack completely, unable to do even the simplest things himself without the danger of passing out. And if he had and Jack hadn't been there...

He eased himself upright and shuffled over to the bedside table where Jack had left two tablets and a glass of apple and blackcurrant squash. He took the pills and drank the rest gratefully, rearranging the pillows against the headboard and leaning back against them to wait for the painkillers to kick in.

The flat was completely quiet, he realised. The low hum of the fridge was the only accompaniment to his musings apart from the occasional roar from a particularly loud engine on the road outside, usually a motorbike or souped up hatch tearing too fast down the street. Even though he'd known that Jack couldn't stay all night, it made him wistful and sad. Just having someone there, a warm body and nothing more, was enough to take the edge off the worst nights – having someone there who cared about you, who warmed you right through, was something far more precious.

Before he could descend to a maudlin level of affection, Ianto hauled himself out of bed and headed for the kitchen, shedding his pyjama top on the way because it made him feel about six. He dumped it on the bathroom floor when he stopped in there to take a piss and brush his teeth, then left it and continued down the corridor. In the doorway, he stopped and smiled at the table. It had been set laid out for one person, with a glass and two different cartons of juice set out next to a plate with a big slice of fruitcake on it, cake fork resting at an artistic angle across the plate.

He smiled as he sat down at the table and dug his fork into the cake. The cake was dry, but the fruit was moist, and the cake was still slightly warm, as if...

Ianto got up again and opened the carton of apple juice whilst he crossed the kitchen and opened one of the cupboard. In one of those see-through cake containers, which was fogging up with condensation, was three quarters of a fruit cake. He shook his head, still smiling, and returned to the table to pour himself a cake and finish the slice of freshly baked cake.

When he got up to take the plate and glass to the sink, he found an envelope hidden underneath it. It was baby blue, and Ianto recognised it as being one of the set that he kept in a box in the living room, just in case he forgot and needed one at short notice. He put the plate and glass back down and opened it to look at the picture first – kittens and flowers – and then to read the message inside.

"Ianto,

This isn't a date either, and I am still determined to collect. If stuff keeps getting in the way, I may have to take you home and ravish you, and do the date afterwards.

Tuesday, work permitting? (That's next Tuesday, not today.)

Hope you like the cake. I'm taking a slice to work with me, chef's prerogative.

Don't come in today, we'll handle it. Just rest your poorly head and think fondly on us poor wretches, slaving away in the darkness.

Love Jack."

It finished with a ridiculous number of kisses filling up the bottom of the page, which gave the impression that Jack had just run out of things to say and hadn't wanted to leave the space. Ianto closed it and slid it back into the envelope, then hurried back to his bedroom to put it in the box in the bottom of the wardrobe with his other fond memories. He knew that Jack would get this box one day, and would look through it (because he cared, and he was nosey), and he'd find himself in there alongside Lisa, and Torchwood, and university, and school, and Rhiannon and their parents. Jack was overtaking even Lisa, now, and if he kept on the way he was going, he'd need a box to himself. He hoped that Jack appreciated that, because Ianto definitely did.


	6. Candlelit Dinner

Ianto was getting used to being wooed and courted. Little things, like a tin of his favourite chocolate appearing in the cupboard and a bottle of gold top milk to make it with in the fridge, and properly completed forms with little personal notes in the margins, nothing private, just sweet and personal. When he'd pointed out to Jack that the forms would go into the Archives and stay there, with his notes on them, he'd said, "I want them to. Let the future know."

Ianto thought it was incredibly sweet, actually.

This, though, wasn't exactly a little thing. It's quite a big thing, actually, even for a first official date, and Ianto found himself wondering how he could possibly measure up in planning the next. Jack was standing in front of him, hands in his trouser pockets to keep them still, the warm light of evening warming the colours of his face and giving him a glow that was even healthier than usual. Behind him, a picnic blanket was laid out, with a wicker basket next to it, two candles and a bottle of wine lying on top of the basket. Ianto thought that this was incredibly sweet, too.

He took a step closer to Jack, so that he could rest the tips of his fingers on Jack's arm. "You closed the Barrage."

"Yes I did." Jack's cheek dimpled, just a little, with the smile that was thinking about forming.

"How closed?"

Jack shrugged one shoulder. "It's still open for shipping, and for emergency and contracted vehicles. Just closed to the public."

"So we have it to ourselves?" he starts rubbing his fingers on the soft cotton of Jack's shirt, greatcoat waiting forlornly at the Hub in deference to the hot weather.

Laughing, at last, Jack withdrew his hands from his pockets and caught Ianto's pressing kisses to the fingertips of one hand whilst holding the other against his chest, pulling Ianto in by it. "Mr Jones, I really hope that you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting."

Ianto kissed him, just a gentle brush of their lips, and trailed his tongue along Jack's bottom lip after it. "I might be."

Jack laughed, and smothered it by dragging Ianto even closer and crushing their lips together properly. Soon they were laughing again, whilst Jack tugged Ianto towards the picnic blanket and fell backwards, tumbling Ianto on top of him and grunting with the impact. It sounded actually painful, so Ianto propped himself up on his hands and rolled to the side, running one hand soothingly down Jack's chest whilst he rested his cheek on the other. Seriously, he asked, "Did that hurt?"

"Yeah," Jack admitted, pulling a face. "It was a stupid thing to do."

"Well I wasn't going to say so, sir," he demurred, smiling coyly.

"Wretch," Jack laughed. He stopped when he turned his head to the side and found himself face to face with Ianto, though. "Ianto..."

Pressing his lips against Jack's, Ianto swallowed the end of his sentence, adding a silent one of his own in the sweep of his tongue and the gentle nip of his teeth. Jack spoke the language fluently, giving his reply in stroking hands and gently probing fingers.

Once they'd said everything they needed to say, they slowed and fell still, with Ianto sprawled across Jack, cheek pressed to his shoulder and half-closed eyes fixed on the sunset over Cardiff. Jack stroked his back and squeezed his hip, then pushed at it. "Come on, lump. Unless you're not hungry?"

"Starving," Ianto sighed, sitting up and combing his fingers through his hair to neaten it from the disarray Jack had created. "What have you brought?"

Jack set the two candles and the bottle of wine upright next to the blanket and fished in the basket to retrieve a box of matches. Once he'd lit the candles, and whilst Ianto settled himself comfortably on the blanket to watch, he started fishing in the basket again. "I brought quiche, and French bread and pâté, and cheese and things."

He pulled them out of the basket as he listed them, and Ianto found himself staring, and even hungrier than he had been before. "Jack, did you make this?" he gestured to the quiche.

"Yeah, I did," Jack smiled, almost shy. "That's why I didn't come around last night; I wanted this to be perfect."

Ianto busied himself cutting the bread. "How long have you been planning it?"

"I..." a bag of cherries emerged last, and Jack closed the basket. "I had the idea whilst I was..."

They'd still not covered that time, Jack's side of it, in any detail. Jack wasn't ready to talk about it, and Ianto understood that well enough to wait. He passed Jack a lump of the bread, also home-made, if he wasn't mistaken, and brushed their fingers together. "You're coming home with me tonight, aren't you?"

Jack spread pâté on the bread and smiled. "I'd like to, if I'm invited."

"You are." It was the perfect night: beautiful weather, good food, excellent company and a stunning view... The night had to have the perfect finish too. "You are what I want."


	7. Pillow Fight

Jack was already awake when Ianto finally, reluctantly, opened his eyes. He, Ianto, was warm and relaxed, loose-limbed and heavy and still sprawled across Jack's chest where he'd fallen asleep the night before.

Tangling his fingers in his hair, Ianto reared back to yawn hugely and smile at Jack, and flopped, inelegantly, into the middle of the bed, fingers laced behind his head and legs still draped with Jack's. "Good morning," he said at last, in a voice as thick and heavy as syrup.

"Good morning." Jack smiled warmly and flattened the hand he wasn't using to prop himself up on Ianto's stomach, splaying his fingers as he leaned forwards to kiss him. "My beautiful boy."

His smile slipped when Ianto thumped him with one of the spare pillows. "Hey! What was that for?"

Ianto scowled and rubbed at his sleep-heavy eyes. "I decided to take offence with the start of the sentence and work on from there."

Jack dodged another thump from the offensive pillow. "What's wrong with good?"

"And now you're being facetious,"Ianto told him sitting up to be able to attack better. "I am not yours." He thumped Jack again. "I am not beautiful." Thump. "And I am not a boy."

Still grinning, Jack took the pillow off him and raised it between them as a shield when Ianto lunged for another. "You are to me!"

"Not helping," Ianto pointed out, raising the pillow to smack it against Jack's. His eyes sparkled with the laugh he was fighting back. "Try again."

"Fire of my loins?" Jack suggested innocently, then ducked behind his pillow to hide from another attack.

"No."

"Keeper of the key to my heart, guardian of my sanity, ow!" he gasped out and poked Ianto with his foot whilst his hands were engaged fighting off Ianto's attack. "King of Coffee? Ianto!"

"Now you've got it," Ianto agreed, laughing even harder then Jack finally started fighting back properly. "Ianto, two syllables. Simples."

Jack fought Ianto back onto the bed and pinned him down, trapping both of his wrists in one large hand above Ianto's head. "I'm trying to be romantic, here."

"I think you overloaded my capacity for romance last night," Ianto told him, almost apologetically. "Besides... no." They stared at each other whilst their breathing steadied, and Ianto tugged one hand free from Jack's loose grasp to touch his heaving chest. "Kiss me."

He smiled and lowered his head, pressing his lips to Ianto's and kissing lightly at the corner of his mouth, then moved away, kissing and nibbling a line down his jaw to just under his ear. He tugged on Ianto's earlobe with his teeth and smirked. "Beautiful."

"Jack!" Ianto pushed him back and grabbed the pillow again, pinning him down and laughing so hard it hurt as he tried to trap Jack's hands and stop him getting a weapon. "Stop. Cease. Desist."

Jack wriggled under him and sucked in a breath. "Ianto..." he whined, mood snapping from breathless with laughter to breathless with desire. "Do something..."

"Maybe," he teased, rocking back just slightly before he lifted himself off Jack completely. "Take it back."

"N... no," Jack gasped, squirming under Ianto's gaze and trying to arch up. "You are beautiful."

Ianto trailed his gaze down Jack's body: rumpled hair, dark eyes, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, arms drawn up and muscles tense, chest beaded with sweat, stomach tense and muscles jumping, cock swollen and red and definitely interested. "Jack... Gorgeous."

He laughed, a sound that was half-groan. "Am I yours?"

Ianto dipped his head to kiss him. "Damn straight."

"Not a boy, though."

"Shut up," Ianto muttered against his lips, silencing another laugh with a deep kiss.


	8. Cuddling in Darkness

Ianto collected together the sections of his report for Jack and tucked them under his arm to carry them over to the coffee machine. He laid them on the side whilst he prepared two mugs of coffee and a bowl of pasta in tomato sauce, then laid them all out on a tray with four forks and the last of the cake from lunch and tucked his report underneath the plate. The lights in the Hub flickered again just as he picked the tray up, and he sighed before turning carefully and carrying it up to Jack's office. "I didn't know if you'd be hungry as well, but I do know you and thought it was fairly likely."

Jack smiled up at him and leaned forwards to turn his screen off, tidying the papers strewn across his desk into a neat pile in his in-tray. "You have impeccable timing, have I told you that lately?"

"Not lately, sir," Ianto replied, putting the tray down as soon as there was space for it. "But the sentiment is appreciated."

"Ianto..." Jack reached out and took Ianto's hand, pulling him until he settled into his lap. Once he was secure and not likely to either escape or fall, Jack wrapped one arm around his waist and cupped his cheek with the other, using it to angle his head for a gentle kiss. They kissed slowly, tongues winding together and teeth nipping gently. When he eventually pulled back, Jack stroked Ianto's cheek once more and kissed the corner of his jaw. "Are you finished for the day?"

"Yeah," he sighed, tipping his head to the side slightly to give Jack better access. "I brought my report."

"We'll deal with it in the morning," Jack told him, and brushed his nose against Ianto's pulse point. "Let's knock off for the night."

"Okay." Ianto pushed himself out of Jack's lap, batting off his hands when he tried to pull him back down. "Jack, I'm too heavy to sit in your lap, and I'll be in the way if we want to eat."

"Later?"

"Maybe," he conceded. He picked the plate of cake up and set it at the back of Jack's desk, put the report into Jack's in-tray, put two of the forks into the pasta and put the bowl in front of Jack, and, finally, tugged the spare chair over so that he was sitting right next to Jack with their knees brushing together. Jack had picked up the two mugs, and gave Ianto's back to him with a smile. "Thanks," Ianto said softly, returning his smile.

"No, thank you," Jack insisted. "You're always looking after me."

"It's my job," he pointed out. Then he turned and kissed Jack. "But we both know that's not why I do it."

They settled down to eat; the heavy forkfuls of soft pasta were delicious and filling in their simplicity, and they were content with enjoying each other's quiet company. About halfway through the meal, the lights died completely, and Ianto swore. "What the Hell?"

Jack squeezed his shoulder and rolled his chair back so that he could get into the bottom drawer for a torch. "Probably the generator, do you think?"

"I don't know," Ianto sighed and put his fork down. "It could be. Do you want me to go and..."

"No, it's okay," Jack stood up and kissed his forehead. "I'll go and have a look."

Ianto nodded and watched him go, then stood up as well and opened the box at the bottom of Jack's bookcase to get at the bag of tealight candles. He set them up around the room, dotting them around the shelves of the bookcase and across Jack's desk, then lit them and the big brass gas-lamp which stood on the top of the bookcase. Heavy footsteps alerted him to Jack's return, and he waved the match out before it burned his fingers. "No luck?" he asked without turning.

Jack sighed and flopped back into his chair; the force pushed it back across the office, from concrete onto carpet, and Ianto turned back as he pulled himself back to the desk. "No luck," he confirmed. "The fuel connector has got blocked somehow, it'll need replacing, so I've called Tosh and got her to order the part. I'll be delivered to her in the morning and she'll bring it in with her. But we're not in lockdown, so we've not got the emergency lighting."

"Just you and me, and a dark Hub," Ianto rested his hands on Jack's shoulders, then reached out with one to collect a forkful of pasta and feed it to Jack. "Do you think we can hold out until morning?"

"We can, but we might as well go home," he suggested.

Ianto considered this, but shook his head. "The lift's out, and I'm too tired to take the stairs."

Jack turned immediately and looked up at him in concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Jack," he ruffled Jack's hair and walked around him to sit down again. "It's just been a long day, and there's a lot of stairs."

"Okay." They finished the pasta at the desk, and then Jack picked up the plate of cake in one hand and took Ianto's with the other to lead him over to the sofa against the back wall of the office. He dragged a low table over and set the cake and some of the candles on it, then sat down on one end of the sofa and patted his lap. "Lie down."

"Jack..."

"Humour me?" He asked, pouting slightly. "Come on..."

With a sigh, Ianto pulled off his jacket and tie to hang them on the coat stand, then sat next to Jack and curled sideways, resting his head against Jack's shoulder rather than in his lap. "This do?" he asked.

"It'll do," Jack agreed, wrapping one arm around Ianto and kissing the corner of his eye. With his other hand he reached out for one of the forks and got a piece of cake. "Open."

Ianto smiled and wrapped his arms around Jack, letting Jack feed them both. When it was done, Jack squirmed around so that their chests were together, and started combing his fingers through Ianto's hair. "I hope you're not getting crumbs in my hair," he chided sleepily.

Jack's fingers paused, and he scratched at Ianto's scalp. "Go to sleep, Ianto."

"Mmm." He frowned when Jack eased out from under him and crouched in front of him to unfasten his trousers. "Jack?"

"Well, you'll get cross if they're creased," he pointed out. "I'll go get some blankets, then we can pull the bed bit out..."

"It has a bed bit?" Ianto asked in surprise.

"Yes, it has a bed bit." He helped Ianto upright and poked him to step out of his trousers, then gestured to his shirt with one hand whilst he moved him out of the way. "Like this."

"So it does..." Jack disappeared through the hatch into his bunker and returned moments later with an armful of blankets, which he shook out and tossed loosely onto the bed, before guiding Ianto underneath them. In the half-light of the candle-lit office he undressed himself and went around blowing out the candles, dropping them into darkness. "We should do this more often," he suggested, snuggling up to Ianto.

"Why do we use your bunker if you have a sofa-bed in here?" Ianto asked groggily.

Jack shrugged against him. "I like it down there, and it's more private... And I get to snuggle a lot closer."

"You're pretty close now," Ianto pointed out, getting even closer.

"Shh, sleep," Jack chided. "For you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup."

Ianto was asleep before he'd finished laughing.


	9. Wedding  First Dance

**Author's Note:** This has been going really smoothly, especially as I lost my internet connection for 7 hours yesterday and managed to write about 8000 words, so I'm hoping to keep up that momentum, post a chapter a day and have it all finished and uploaded in under 3 weeks. We'll see if that actually happens, but I think I can do it.

* * *

Jack picked up a glass of champagne from the table and turned around to watch the proceedings again. Ianto was at the DJ desk talking to Gwen; their heads were close together and he was smiling at her, nodding his agreement to whatever she was saying. Over in the corner, Tosh was picking at her food whilst Owen sulked with his chin on his folded arms, and Rhys was standing in front of the top table and appeared to be doing his best to ignore his mother. Jack grinned and raised the champagne flute to his lips, sipping gently and letting his eyes wander over the crowd, past the two bridesmaids, and back to Ianto and Gwen.

They kept talking for a while, then Gwen gave Ianto another brilliant smile and kissed his cheek before sweeping down from the stage and towards Rhys. Jack hid a grin in another sip of his champagne and shook his head, following her progress. He had to hand it to her, there weren't many women who could sweep as well as she could, even if it was really annoying when you were the one she was sweeping. Ianto, when he chanced another look, had his head down over the DJ desk, a tiny furrow between his eyes from his concentration. He looked up suddenly and caught Jack's gaze across the room, letting his soft smile smooth away the frownlines and making him look as young as he actually was for a change. Jack's heart skipped a beat as the shock of it sank in again, and he returned Ianto's smile tremulously.

Gwen clapped her hands and clasped them together against her shoulder, looking at Ianto over her shoulder. He nodded at her and picked up a microphone off the desk, tapping it twice to check that it was on and raising it to his lips. "If I could have your attention please? Mr and Mrs Williams are going to take to the floor for their first dance as a married couple, and they've chosen Calon Lân."

As the music started up, Jack closed his eyes and swayed into it, mouthing the words along with the rich singing of a recorded male voice choir. His smile faded, and he opened his eyes again to watch Gwen and Rhys swaying together in the middle of the floor, surrounded by family and friends, ready to start out on a new life as a married couple.

Wedding traditions had change a lot since he'd got married. Sarah's father, Roger, knowing that Jack had no parents to look after him, had taken it upon himself to make sure that Jack could waltz for the first dance, insisting that anyone who was marrying his little girl had to do it properly. He'd been so proud of both of them when he walked down the aisle with Sarah's arm through his, ready and willing to give her into Jack's care. It had been a simple wedding, on the eve of war when so many other couples were getting married in a hurry. They'd married in church, a full service for her religious family, and then gone to her uncle's farm, where tables and tents were set up in one of the fallow fields, and they'd eaten simple, healthy meals that Sarah and Anne, her mother, had prepared, and their first dance had been dusk-lit and accompanied by her cousin on the violin.

His best man had been Gerald, the director of Torchwood, there because he'd insisted that he keep an eye on Jack, rather than because Jack had wanted him there. The organisation had made his life miserable since he joined them, and the one bright patch in it was the beautiful young woman he'd helped up when she fell off her bicycle and, somewhere down the line, fallen in love with.

They had waltzed around the field, laughing when she tripped over his feet – she was never the most coordinated of people – until he picked her up and waltzed her around with her feet dangling off the ground, surrounded by the laughter and love of her family in the warm summer night. There were very few truly perfect nights that hindsight didn't dull, but that was one of them; even with the pain of loss that had followed it too soon.

He took another sip of his drink and let the memories sweep him away.


	10. Memories  Photographs

Jack sat behind his desk and reached down to the bottom drawer, unlocking it and pulling it open to get the tin out of it. Ianto was in the main Hub still, locking the gun away in the armoury again and updating the Retcon log with the amount they'd had to use on Gwen and Rhys's family. He sighed and opened the tin to sort through the pictures, and found the one he was looking for.

"Jack?" Ianto called up. "Are you ready?"

He put the papers back into the tin and locked it again, turning to look over his shoulder at the figure in the darkened doorway. "Yeah, have you finished down there?"

"Yep," he popped the p, as always, and Jack tried to hide a smile. "All done."

"I'm sorry; I meant to come down and help you," he apologised. He stood up and reached out for his coat, but Ianto beat him to it and held it out for him. "You do too much for me."

"I know. Are you feeling better now?" Ianto's hands were resting on his shoulders, radiating heat through the heavy wool.

Jack turned, dislodging his hands, and smiled. "I'm getting there. I've got something to show you."

"Back to my place, then?"

"Yeah," Jack studied him and cupped his cheek gently, stepping closer to see him better in the dim light. "I'll drive, and I'll show you in the morning. You look exhausted."

"I'm fine," Ianto insisted.

"And you'll be even better if you get a good night's sleep and let me take care of you, alright?" he pressed his lips to Ianto's to forestall any arguments and then pulled away to pick up the tin. "Coming?"

"Well, it is my flat," Ianto pointed out with vague amusement.

In the morning, Ianto stretched out in the otherwise empty bed and tried to force his eyes open. The room was dark, and he could hear rain spattering against the window, but the clock was covered by something – probably Jack's underpants.

Slowly, he tucked his knees up to his chest and wrapped one arm around them, curling the other under his head and closing his eyes again. The duvet was thick and warm, and he had absolutely no desire to leave its security.

Somewhere, Jack chuckled, and the bed dipped soon after, duvet lifting to let Jack slip underneath. Ianto grunted his displeasure, but rolled over and let Jack gather him close =, arms wrapped tight around him. "Morning, Jack," he muttered, sliding his hand up to Jack's shoulder. "Can I stay here?"

Jack laughed and rubbed at Ianto's back. "Not all day, but you can for now. Go back to sleep."

"Don't want to sleep," he insisted. "Just don't want to move. What time is it?"

"Nine, about."

"Nine?" he tensed up and pushed himself back. "We should be at work..."

Jack was laughing, and pulled him back in against his chest. "Says who? The boss? Boss says that we finished very late last night and that you and Tosh needed your sleep, and that you don't need to be in until this afternoon, unless something comes up. And it hasn't come up."

Ianto sighed and relaxed fully. "I knew there were advantages to shagging the boss."

"What, besides the boss?" Jack teased, rubbing his back and kissing the top of his head. "You happy to stay down there?"

"Hmm, very," he agreed, wrapping lazy arms around Jack in return. They lay there in silence for a while, until Ianto found the inclination to move again. When he did, he pulled back enough to look up at Jack. "What was it you wanted to show me?"

Jack reached for the cupboard in his bedside cabinet, pulling out the box that Ianto had seen him with the night before. "This is my box of... things, of memories," he explained, sitting up against the headrest. Ianto followed him and sat next to him, letting the duvet pool around his hips and folding his hands on top of them. "Photos and papers that I need to remember."

"You should preserve them better," Ianto suggested, reaching out to touch the fragile papers. "There's something in the archive that you could use to store them better."

Tipping his chin up with one finger, Jack leant in to kiss Ianto again and smiled. "I want to put a photo of us in here. Professionally done, I mean."

"Do you keep everyone you sleep with?" Ianto asked, accepting the pile from Jack and starting to sort through them.

"No," Jack told him quietly. "Just the special ones."

Ianto looked up at him again and smiled. "I'll be in good company, then. Who's this?"

Jack took the photo from him and smiled sadly. "Sarah, my wife. Late wife. Very late wife. We were married in nineteen thirteen, before I got shipped off to war. And we had..." he took the pile from Ianto again and shuffled through it until he found a photo of two small children, a young girl with a baby of indeterminate gender on her lap. "Catherine and Joseph. Catherine was a little over three years older." He swallowed hard and Ianto took the photo out of his shaking hand, squeezing his hand gently. "Died within a day of each other, and Sarah."

"Oh Jack..." Ianto wrapped his arm around Jack's shoulders and squeezed. "Spanish flu?"

"Yeah. It was a terrifying time," he swallowed again and shook the weight away. Time had blunted the pain. "That's Tommy, my second world war airman," he chuckled. "Just my co-pilot, but we were close. And that's Estelle in her younger days. Wendy, who I lived with at the start of the sixties, and this is Lucia and Melissa," he showed Ianto a photo of an attractive young woman with Mediterranean colouring with a young girl on her hip, and Jack's arms wrapped around both of them, all three of them laughing. It was hidden inside a folded copy of the Melissa's birth certificate. "Now called Alice; she doesn't speak to me."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "Lucia and I split up, she didn't want to grow old in front of me, and I couldn't give her any more children. Increased levels of oestrogen in the water supply in the early seventies wrecked my reproductive system. It thinks I'm pregnant."

"So that's why you eat so much," Ianto said without thinking.

Jack laughed and kissed him. "Yes, that is why I eat so much. And why I have weird cravings sometimes." He shrugged again. "She was Italian, wanted a big family to please her mama. Didn't get her big family, but she tried." He turned quiet again. "So when you leave... I'll understand."

Ianto swallowed and took Jack's hand again. "You know... you know it's most likely to be 'til death us do part', don't you?"

Their fingers laced together and Jack looked up at him from their joined hands. "I shouldn't find that reassuring. But it's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a very long time."


	11. Karaoke

"Mrs Williams," Jack called out from his office doorway, startling all of them. His eyes were fixed on her with a undefinable intensity. "Do you know what I just realised?"

"That me being called Mrs Williams is really weird and I should stick with Cooper on the job?" she guessed.

He tilted his head slightly and the ghost of a smile appeared. "No, but that's noted. So, Mrs Cooper, do you know what I just realised?"

She smiled and turned around to face him fully. "No, Jack, what did you just realise?"

"We weren't invited to your hen night," he stated seriously. "We didn't get to wave you off into married life."

"Jack," she drew his name out, dropping a warning tone into it as he got closer.

He grinned and came right up to her desk, propping his hip against it. "So tell, did you get drunk? Were there strippers?"

She pushed him away with a laugh, but he wasn't budging. Throwing her hands up, she gave in. "Yes, there was a stripper."

"I love a stripper. Male or female?"

"Male," she slapped his thigh, scandalised. "You would have liked him, he was definitely a bit of alright."

"Now this is more like it. Mrs Cooper," he chided her, shaking his head. "You've been keeping all the strippers to yourself."

"We don't need strippers, Jack," Owen pointed out, sounding bored. "We have the CCTV footage of you and Ianto. Free porn!"

Ianto managed to look annoyed and slightly proud. "It's a good job it's free, Owen, because you wouldn't be able to afford us."

"Not now you stop him putting it on the company account," Tosh added.

Jack just grinned at them and winked at Ianto. "We do put on one hell of a show. Anyway, Mrs Cooper."

"Yes, Jack," she said, exasperated. "What is it?"

"You need to have another hen party." She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "We'll go out for drinks, scream a lot, and Ianto will strip."

"No he won't," Ianto corrected him firmly. "And neither will Jack."

Jack laughed. "Spoil my fun, why don't you? Okay, so we'll go for drinks and all of us will keep our clothes on. How's that?"

"Just drinks?" she checked warily.

"Just drinks," he promised. "The voice of reason has spoken."

"Harkness, you promised 'just drinks'," Owen complained bitterly. "This is not 'just drinks'. This is 'drinks, plus karaoke'. This was not part of the deal."

"Lighten up, Owen," Jack chided, trying to ignore him rather than get annoyed. "No one's going to make you sing."

"I might," Gwen threatened, "if he doesn't cheer up."

He flipped her off and carried on sulking. "Load of talentless wannabes, hoping to be 'spotted' and dragged from their dead-end jobs."

"I don't think that you can talk about dead end jobs, Owen," Ianto pointed out. "Not unless you're speaking from experience."

"Owen, you don't have to stay if you don't want to," Jack sighed, cutting in before Owen could bite back at Ianto. "I just thought it would be fun."

"It is fun," Tosh insisted. She was stirring her drink with her straw, and barely glanced up from it. "But Owen's right, the singers are awful."

Jack studied her suspiciously. "Was that a hint, Toshiko?"

"Well..." she looked up at him through her hair and smiled. "We've all heard you sing, and it would be a nice change to have someone with a good voice up there for a change."

"Miss Sato," Jack tutted at her and shook his head. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"I'll burn you a DVD of that footage you had me delete," she offered.

He grinned. "Sold! Any requests?"

"'Like A Virgin'," Owen suggested.

Tosh mimed slapping the back of his head and looked up at Jack, who had stood up. "Will you do 'Can You Feel The Love Tonight?', from the Lion King?"

"For you, Miss Sato, I'll do anything."

"You're actually going to do this?" Ianto checked as Jack walked past him.

Jack shrugged and his grin softened. "Sure. Don't forget to applaud, my ego's a fragile thing."

They watched his progress up to the small stage, and had to sit through a very drunken rendition of something modern by two girls who could barely stand up, much less hold a tune. When they finished, the compère took the microphone off them and gestured Jack up. "That was Katie and Dannii, guys, give them a big round of applause! Up next we have Jack, who's singing 'Can You Feel The Love Tonight' for Toshiko, isn't that sweet?"

Jack accepted the microphone and chuckled, whilst Tosh blushed. Ianto nudged her absently. "I'm going to have to make some grand possessive gesture now, aren't I? Stick my tongue down his ear or something."

She giggled and Owen made sounds of disgust, and Jack's warm, rich voice filled the room over the PA system. The volume of conversation in the room dropped, and heads started turning towards the stage; most people wore expressions of surprise. "Oh look, it's Susan Boyle," Owen joked dryly, to anyone who would listen.

Ianto couldn't take his eyes off Jack, and couldn't help but notice that Jack wasn't taking him eyes off him. The stage lighting was unflattering, casting shadows across Jack's face and in the creases of his shirt. His hair flopped across his forehead and into his eyes slightly, and his teeth shone slightly blue. He looked faintly demonic, actually. But that barely registered, because for all that he was singing for Tosh, he was singing to Ianto. Her hand on his arm told him that she didn't mind..

When Jack finished, appreciative applause filled the room and he saluted his audience, then stepped down to work his way through the crowd. When he reached their table, he dragged Ianto out of his chair and kissed him thoroughly, dominating the embrace and seemingly trying to steal either Ianto's breath or his brain through it. "Just in case anyone wondered," he told Ianto more gently when then finally broke apart, and Ianto grinned shyly and crushed their lips together again.


	12. First I Love You

Jack was fairly sure that Ianto knew how he felt, just like he was fairly sure that he knew how Ianto felt. There were times, though, when he wondered; he couldn't know for certain that Ianto understood just how deep his feelings ran these days, just like he couldn't know just how Ianto felt about him in return. Those times were when he thought that he didn't want to know, because they were the times when he thought that he'd fallen too hard and too fast for someone who couldn't feel the same way. It was a conundrum that he thought was called 'being in love'.

Ianto was flomped on the bed next to him – and there really was no other term for it – with one leg hooked over one of Jack's and his face buried in the gap between the pillows. It was the closest that they got to using two pillows these days, as Ianto either used Jack's shoulder or shared pillow space with him, to facilitate snoring in his ear. The nights when they shared a pillow, Jack had no desire to tell Ianto how he felt – largely because the desire to smother him with the other pillow overruled it – and usually got up to escape it. On the nights when his head was on Jack's chest he didn't snore at all, probably because of the different angle or something, but it was too close and intimate, somehow, to confess his feelings.

And then there was the fact, like now, that he didn't know if it would be worse to say it and Ianto not hear, or for Ianto to wake up unexpectedly and be a party to what would surely be a garbled mess of words. So he kept quiet and just tipped his head to the side to watch Ianto's nose twitch and his snores flutter the label sticking out of the pillow case.

He nearly said it over breakfast, but the paper arrived before they got out of bed and by the time breakfast was ready to sit down and eat, Ianto had his head buried in the sport section and was grumbling about... something. Jack tuned him out and ruffled his hair affectionately whilst he went about serving around Ianto and his paper. A hand emerged to grab a fork and stab a sausage, then disappeared again with its precious cargo. The next thing to emerge was a series of swearwords, suggesting that Ianto had, yet again, dripped ketchup onto his paper. Jack left him to it, calling on years of experience to keep from laughing.

They spent the morning working hard, catching up on the paperwork that always got put aside when the Rift went bananas, as it had done in the week before. Saving the world took first priority, followed by sleep and food and showering, followed by clinging to whatever passed for normality – or each other, if you were Jack and Ianto – and then, if you had enough time and energy left over before the next crisis, you did the paperwork. Suffice it to say, Jack and Ianto had spent the night before clinging to each other, and the paperwork was just getting underway.

Owen had half a dozen autopsies to perform, Tosh had eight days of Rift data to comb through, Gwen had follow-up with the police and Retcon paperwork, Jack was doing the initial investigations on three artefacts that they'd found, which left Ianto with the everyday stuff – finding and preparing the forms they needed to fill in for each, filling out the requisition forms for Jack to sign over lunch, setting up the archive files for the reports and cross-referencing them where possible. His desk now faced towards Jack's office, and Jack relaxed his eyes from their close focus on the artefact currently occupying his attention by letting them rove over Ianto idly, flickering over the frown line between his eyes, his slightly rumpled hair and the way it contrasted with his neatly-done tie.

A chat box opened on his computer and he sighed, knowing without having to look that he was being told off.

Ianto: _Jack, concentrate._

Ianto: _I'd like to be able to go home tonight._

Jack grinned at the implication that Ianto wouldn't go without him and pulled his keyboard out from under the pile of report forms that Ianto had got ready for him.

Jack: _Yes, sir. Just resting my eyes. They're not what they used to be._

He glanced up just in time to spot Ianto's smirk before it was smoothed away again.

Ianto: _They used to be your ears?_

Jack: _Oooold joke._

Ianto: _But still not as old as you. Sir._

Jack sighed and typed again. _'I love y'_ and backspaced quickly.

Jack: _Touché. Lunch?_

They ordered wraps, because they were hot and reasonably tidy for eating at desks. Jack ate his one-handed whilst the other drifted across the forms that had been placed on his desk to sign so far – more Retcon forms than he cared to count, a couple of excursion reports, three requisition forms so far... Ianto set a mug of coffee on the desk, within reach but away from the edge, and brushed his fingers through Jack's hair like he didn't know he was doing it. "Have you made any progress?"

Jack had closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, and sighed when the question made him think. "Some. It's giving me a headache," he confessed.

Ianto's fingers became more determined, rubbing at his scalp through his gelled hair. "I wish you wouldn't gel your hair," he chided. "It's all spiky and hard. It's probably what's giving you the headache."

"Hello Mr Pot," he rumbled, leaning further into the touch. "Please never stop?"

"I have to go and have my lunch," Ianto pointed out reasonably. "But I can carry on later."

"Mmm, what would I do without you?"

Ianto's lips pressed against his forehead and then his hands were gone. "Work, maybe?"

Jack opened his mouth to make his play, but Ianto had vanished with his hands and was, somehow, back at his desk already. "Sneaky wretch," he muttered, turning his flagging attention back to the reports and his lunch.

Time dragged on in stits and farts, as someone once said to him. One time he looked up and found that only fine minutes had passed, then he removed one panel from the still-mysterious device and it took him half an hour. Eventually he looked up at an appropriate time for dinner, and pushed himself away from his desk. "People, go home," he called out, striding out of his office. "Cook dinner for a change, watch whatever Auntie Beeb has for us tonight, read a book, I don't care."

No one needed much encouragement; even Owen seemed eager to get out of there, but then he had been up to his elbows in aliens all day. Ianto made two neat piles of reports whilst Jack went over to lean against his desk, rubbing his thumb against Ianto's neck absently. "Home, then?" Ianto asked at last, once he was finished.

Jack made a non-committal noise. "I thought we could grab take-away and wander around to watch the sunset off the barrage? Should be a nice night for it."

Ianto stilled. "Well aren't you the romantic? Fish and chips?"

"You read my mind."

They ate as they walked, because cold fish and chips is a very sad thing, and fell into an easy pace around the edge of the Bay. There were a few other people around, couples walking their dogs with one eye on children running off their energy, bundled up against the cold, a group of probably-students lounging on the grass with bottles of cheap, nasty alcohol and smoking probably more than tobacco. In the end, they didn't make it to the barrage; instead they settled down on a bench, spreading the newspaper out next to them rather than in their laps, having learned that the hard way, and bumping shoulders gently. The sun looked warmer than it was, staining the sky in oranges and pinks as it sank behind Cardiff's skyline and glittered off the glass and steel amongst the concrete and stone, and the choppy water of the bay and the rain still jewelled on the grass.

"It's not bad, is it?" Ianto asked thoughtfully. "Good fish, too." Jack made a noise of agreement. Nodding, Ianto broke off and ate another piece of fish and asked, apropos of nothing. "Does cod die out?"

Jack swallowed his chip. "That's haddock."

"I know it's haddock," Ianto shoved Jack's elbow with his own. "But they're all worried about the cod stocks dying out."

"Oh... probably. I don't know... They rebuilt the stocks, though," he popped another lump of fish in his mouth and shrugged. "Cloning."

"They get there in the end, then?" Ianto asked, although it was rhetorical, or at least Jack thought it was. "Good to know."

"The human race always got there fastest, even if not first." He sucked his fingers clean, even though he was only halfway through his fish and would get them greasy pretty much instantly. "You know I love you, don't you?"

Ianto considered this. "Me specifically, or the human race?"

"Well... both, I suppose. But you specifically tonight," he poked at his fish again and felt better for having said it.

Ianto made another of those contemplative noises. "That's a lot of people to share you with," he pointed out. "You get me to yourself."

"You may have a point," he pretended to consider this. "What if I promise you Jack, and they can have the Captain bits?"

"I can cope with that." Ianto turned and kissed his cheek, because it was all that was in reach. "I sort of knew, you know?"

"What gave it away?"

"You put up with my snoring." Because they were leaning together, he felt Ianto's shrug. "And I put up with your sex drive, which really must be love."


	13. Cuddling in Public

One hundred and thirteen people died in the carnage, including Tosh and Owen. The morning after, when the Hub grew too close and oppressive for Jack, Ianto dragged him to the roof and held him. Smoke rose on the horizon and the city was utterly still and quiet, personifying the deep breath and the shocked pause of its inhabitants. By the time they left work in the evening, worn out by forty hours of hell and by crushing grief to a point somewhere so far beyond exhaustion that the world nearly made sense again, the mourning had begun.

People gathered on street corners, talking to the complete strangers they'd lived next door to for years, relieved to have made it through the night and grieving those who hadn't, even the ones they had never met. The Plass had become the focal point for it, the location for the spontaneous outpouring of communal pain. It was a sea of flowers and guttering candles already, building up in front of the Millennium Centre and spilling out towards the darkened light pillars. Ianto took Jack up by the lift to watch the steady procession of people arriving and departing again quickly, ushered home by the cold night. He pulled Jack off the step by his hand, refusing to let go of it, and took three Ikea tealights from his pocket. A group of students, bundled up against the cold, had set up a table with tea, coffee, soup and bread rolls, raising money for the victims, and he approached them. "Hi, have you got a light?" he asked, gesturing with his candles, whilst his other hand gripped Jack's.

"Sure." One of the girls fumbled in a box with cold fingers and passed him a bright purple lighter. "You came prepared."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Here." He detached his hand from Jack's and felt Jack's hand latch onto his coat instead, and pulled his gloves from his pockets to offer them to her. "You look like you need these."

"Are you sure?" she asked gratefully, accepting them from him. "I didn't think to bring any."

He nodded and started lighting the candles. "How long have you been here?"

"We got here about noon," she answered, pulling his gloves on and rubbing her hands together. They were too big for her, but already warm from his pocket. "As soon as it went to shit last night we all got together at Kat's house – cos her housemates aren't back yet – and we'd got this planned by dawn. Then it was just a matter of getting the stuff. Ikea donated the candles and Tesco gave us the food things, so everything we get for them goes straight to the fund." She pulled a hopeful face.

Ianto fished in his pocket for his wallet and gave her a twenty pound note. "Have you got a paypal account? Or a JustGiving site?"

"We're getting paypal organised tonight, we hope," she shrugged. "As soon as the internet comes back online."

Ianto grimaced and nodded. "Of course. Look, just let me deal with this and..."

"Oh, yeah, sure," she looked down at his candles, up at his face, and then to Jack behind him. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Th... thank you." He picked up one of the candles and gave it to Jack, then took the other two himself and led Jack over to the edge of the memorial. They crouched, and he was glad that Jack didn't need to be told, and placed their candles carefully away from any of the bunches of flowers, at the edge of a cluster of candles which had clearly been put there with similar thoughts in mind. Using the borrowed lighter, he lit them from left to right. "Tosh. Owen." He paused and bit his lip. "Gray."

Jack sucked in a breath next to him, but said nothing, so Ianto focussed on relighting the candles that had been blown out by the wind. When he was done, he sat back on his heels and let out a shuddering sigh. "I turned off the life support," he confessed quietly.

The wind was his only answer for a long while, so long that he didn't think he'd get an answer, and God he didn't want Jack to lose him as well tonight, but then Jack's fingers traced down his arm and touched against his palm. Ianto turned his hand to let Jack lace their fingers together. "I know. I saw." He paused, and Ianto didn't look around. "You were right."

"You need to be able to mourn him," Ianto explained quietly. "You need to have closure."

"I know." Jack shuddered at last and Ianto pulled them both upright, turning to face Jack. "But... he..."

"He died a long time ago, Jack," he curled his other hand around Jack's neck and rubbed his thumb against the skin behind his ear. When no answer was forthcoming, and he couldn't think of anything to say, he applied pressure to the back of Jack's neck and released his hand to wrap his arm around his waist, just holding onto him. Jack buried his face in Ianto's neck and clung to him, shaking in his arms. "I love you," Ianto whispered into his hair. "I love you so much, and I thought I'd lost you."

The night grew darker as Jack's flimsy walls broke at last, tears soaking into Ianto's coat and fingers scrabbling at it. People moved around them – fewer and fewer of them now as the night progressed – but the ones who came gave them space and nodded to Ianto, sharing in his grief and offering their support. When Jack finally pulled away, drying his tears away from red-raw eyes, Ianto leaned in and kissed him softly.

A chorus of 'aww's rose from the girls at the table and he rolled his eyes, pulling away from Jack and leading him back to the table. He fished in his pocket and pulled out the key to the tourist office. "This is for the TI office down on the boardwalk," he told the girl he'd been talking to earlier. "If you get too cold you can go and hide in there. What's your name?"

"Angie," she studied the key and looked up at him. "Yours?"

"Ianto, Ianto Jones." Behind him, Jack made a noise that could have been a laugh, a sob or a hiccup, or possibly all three. "I need to take him home."

"Yeah, of course." She shrugged slightly. "There's not really an appropriate phrase for this, is there?"

He smiled and inclined his head. "Take care, Angie. I'll see you to get that key back off you."

"Night, Ianto."

He took Jack's hand again and tucked them both into one of Jack's pockets, leading Jack up the Plass, away from Torchwood and its raw grief, just for one night.


	14. Holiday

"Jack," he dropped his hands onto Jack's shoulders and started massaging gently, just enough to distract Jack from his paperwork. "You need a break."

They'd been working non-stop for two weeks now, coordinating demolition and repair work, chasing disturbed weevils (well, more-disturbed-than-usual Weevils), negotiating back-up and cover with UNIT, searching for new staff... replacements. Ianto shuddered involuntarily and shook his head. He'd adopted the disaster fund as his personal project and was helping Angie to co-ordinate fund-raising right across the country, even across the world, whilst Gwen was helping the police to distribute it. Jack was sleeping more than Ianto had ever known him to – more than Ianto was, in fact – and his sleep was plagued by nightmares. When he was in the Hub, he threw himself into his work to distract himself from the claustrophobia caused by being underground, and every night ended up at Ianto's flat with the curtains open and Jack facing towards them, with Ianto wrapped against his back. Snoring.

Jack scribbled his signature onto a letter for the Prime Minister and turned around in his chair, taking Ianto's hands when they dropped from his shoulders. He kissed the pads of Ianto's thumbs and smirked. "A break? What did you have in mind?"

Ignoring the way his heart soared – apart from a life-affirming blowjob which had seemed to take Jack by surprise completely that first night, the contact between them had been chaste since The Night, and although it was nice to know that their relationship and their sanity could survive three weeks without sex, Ianto missed it – Ianto tugged one hand free and combed it through Jack's hair. "I mean a proper break, not five minutes in the archives."

"It gets better. Did you have a location in mind?"

He thought about it. "Guernsey. Apparently it's nice at this time of year, although not particularly warm."

Jack studied him, rubbing his thumbs in circles on Ianto's palms. "So when you said a break, you meant..."

"A weekend, maybe more," he gestured vaguely to Jack's desk. "UNIT can and will cover it. We both need to stop, Jack. You especially."

"I need to be able to help," he protested. "I need to feel..."

"I know," Ianto interrupted softly, silencing further protests by pressing his lips against Jack's. "But if we keep on like this, one of us is going to crash out and take the other with us." It was a bit below the belt, suggesting that his own health was in Jack's hands, but it was the truth.

"Okay." Jack kissed him again, more purposefully than before. "I'll call UNIT, you..."

"I'll call the hotel." Ianto stepped back when Jack released his hands and grazed his fingers over Jack's cheek once more.

Hotels had always been Ianto's biggest luxury expense. Before Jack moved in with him, they had provided the occasional night of pampering and luxury, a change from the Ikea-neat lines of his flat, or the damp clutter of the Hub. It was better when Jack joined him, because of the extra bonus of not having to wash the sheets and not having to worry about his neighbours hearing them. Then, after Jack moved in with him and he was spending more nights at his own flat, and every night with Jack, they became a bunk-off, somewhere to run to when the Rift gave them a quiet night and they needed a break. They'd get in Jack's Jaguar, or Ianto's Aston Martin, and drive until they found somewhere they liked the look of that had vacancies. Sometimes they had to take the penthouse suite, because it was all that was vacant. Ianto loved tying Jack to four-poster beds, loved the trust it implied and the way that Jack came utterly undone when tied up.

The flight was only twenty minutes, so they didn't even get in-flight drinks, let alone chance for a fumble in the toilet, and a taxi was waiting for them at the airport, ready to whisk them away to Cobo and the hotel Ianto had booked. He'd gone for the penthouse again, liking the way it rose above its surrounding buildings by a floor and the glass walls of the bedroom. Jack was sitting on the edge of the enormous bed – not a four-poster, sadly, and it even had a solid headboard, impossible to tie anything to – looking around the room in wonder. The wall behind the bed and the one to the right were both sheet glass, with a door leading onto the balcony in the corner. To the left, the wall was covered with floor-to ceiling mirrors, with a mirrored wardrobe door and bathroom door marked out only by a white border. Opposite the bed the wall was plain white, with a huge TV mounted above a chest of drawers and two side tables, which matched the cabinets next to the bed and the bed itself. A book of photos of Guernsey was on top of the chest of drawers, between two vases of Freesias, and a door next to one of the cabinets led into the entrance hall, which the sitting room led off.

Ianto straightened up from putting their things away in the chest of drawers and watched Jack. His gaze flickered around the room, but kept returning to the tempestuous sea visible through the huge windows. "Jack," he called softly, dragging Jack's attention back to him as he sat next to him. Ianto smiled and cupped Jack's cheek, bringing their lips together softly. "You need to sleep," he murmured. "I'll watch over you."

Jack shook his head, but pulled his clothes off and dropped them in a pile next to the bed; Ianto couldn't bring himself to care. He raised his eyebrows when Jack started on the buttons of his shirt, especially as Jack had only stripped down to his boxers, but complied and dropped his clothes on top of Jack's. They tugged the quilt down between them and laid side-by-side, touching each other gently just to know that they were both there. "I hate myself for thinking it," Jack whispered, "but I'm glad it wasn't you."

Ianto didn't need him to explain; he surged forwards and pressed himself against Jack fully, trying to be there and alive as much as possible. "I won't leave you. I'm here and I won't leave you."


	15. Making Love

**Author's note:** Here's another of those bits I want to expand. We pick up right at the end of the previous one. It's quite hard to fill a 'making love' prompt within the site's restrictions, so one day it will, I hope, be expanded on AO3 and on LiveJournal.

I think the site's throwing a spanner on replying to reviews as well, so I will do those when it lets me. (Technology, our cruel mistress)

* * *

Ianto drew back from the kiss and studied Jack closely, running his fingertips across his face and following them with his eyes. "Jack, what's the matter?"

Looking away from Ianto, Jack grinned, which struck Ianto as a sign that something was very wrong, and shrugged. "Nothing's the matter," he denied, without meeting Ianto's eyes. "Why did you think that?"

He went back to nuzzling Jack's neck whilst he thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was that had tipped him off. It was something in the kiss, in the way Ianto was responding to him and touching him; he was clumsy and cautious, over-enthusiastic one moment and withdrawn the next, kissing like he'd never been kissed before, and touching like Ianto was completely new to him. "You don't remember," he said at last, quietly, and Jack fell utterly still. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Jack tightened his arms around Ianto slowly. "I... I should know. This is me, Ianto. Intergalactic playboy. It's what everyone expects," he almost spat it out, sounding bitter about it, then added more softly, "I hoped you wouldn't notice."

Ianto sighed and flattened his palm on Jack's shoulder to push him back onto the bed. "Jack... I know you inside and out," and that wasn't an exaggeration, although it could have been a euphemism. "I love you. Of course I noticed."

"Yeah, well," Jack said in a flat, dead voice. "Now you know."

"You don't though, do you?" he asked, planting his hands on either side of Jack's head and raising himself above Jack. "You don't know what this means."

Jack's adam's apple bobbed, and he finally met Ianto's eyes again. "I thought I did. I'm not so sure now, though."

"Did you think I'd leave you?" he asked, and Jack nodded jerkily. "Oh Jack..." he closed his eyes and rested their foreheads together. "Never. And definitely not for something like this. This is... you were my first. The only one," he added firmly, opening his eyes. "Have you been looking it up on the internet?"

Jack nodded. "I hoped it would jog my memory. I still can't remember it, though."

"What can't you remember?"

Jack's tongue darted out to moisten his lips. "What it feels like. It... I can't believe it doesn't hurt and it's... You're laughing at me," he said accusingly.

"No, I'm not." Ianto kissed him again to reassure him. "I'm excited."

"I can tell," Jack joked, glancing down.

"You were excited, when I told you. You said that you were glad I warned you, because you could make it perfect." He lifted himself higher and nudged his nose against Jack's, not quite kissing him. "I want to make it perfect for you."

"It will be perfect," Jack told him, with a trace of bravado. "You're here."

"Sap." He brushed their lips together, then pulled away to kiss Jack's eyelids, loving the feel of his eyelashes fluttering against his lips. "The first night we slept together, it was at my flat, and you brought red silk bed linen especially, you said that you wanted me to feel silk sheets and your mouth around my cock, to see me flushing so that I clashed with the covers – that was when you decided that red is my colour. You laid me out in the middle of the bed," he mouthed down to Jack's ear and dropped his voice to a whisper, "and made love to me all night, until I couldn't remember my name. But I screamed yours when you finally fucked into me."

He pulled back to look down at Jack, and saw that his eyes were already dark with want, but suspiciously shiny. "I want to remember it," he whispered.

Ianto kissed his lips again and shushed him, lowering his head to Jack's neck. "Let me remind you."


	16. Love Letter

Jack had pulled one of the little end tables over to the edge of the bed and put his pen and paper down on it. It wobbled slightly, but he could work with it for now. Next to him, Ianto was sprawled out across the bed, snoring into the pillow, thoroughly worn out. They'd extended their stay to make the most of Jack's sexual exploration, and had tried things that Ianto assured him they'd never even contemplated before, but begged him to repeat when they got home. Either Ianto brought out the kinky in him, or he'd not given Ianto's own kinkiness enough credit before, and he thought that it was probably the latter.

He'd taken over for the night, determined to find every little thing that drove Ianto mad. With his focus so completely on his partner, Jack had been able to hold out for hours and turn Ianto into a gibbering, shaking puddle under his hands, begging for release. When Jack finally granted it, Ianto had passed out completely, and swatted Jack away grumpily when he eventually woke him, nearly frantic with worry.

One all, as they said in football.

It had given him the opportunity he'd been looking for to get his feelings down on paper, whilst Ianto wasn't there to get him tongue-tied and doey-eyed. 'I love you' was all well enough, and easy to say by now, but the twentieth century boy he'd become loved the elegance and formality of a letter, the fact that it was there on paper to be read and reread at will. He knew that Ianto kept things like this in the bottom of his wardrobe, and hoped that he'd be able to find this letter amongst them when he was alone again, to remind him of just how good this had been.

He brushed at his eyes and blinked a few times to clear them before bending to his task again and putting pen to paper.

"_Dear Ianto,_

_(You're going to accuse me of being a soppy fool when you read this, but I'll have you know that, whilst I write it, you're passed out on the bed next to me, thoroughly shagged. It brings out the romantic in me.)_

_I want you to know that I'm glad that I have you. If there's been a darker time in my life than this, I don't want the memories back; but when I look back on this time in the future, it won't be the darkness I think of, it will be you. You caring for me and looking after me, protecting me and loving me, and making love to me with the storm around us, feeling like we were the only people in the world. You make me feel so cherished, so special, so loved, and I hope that I can give you at least a fraction of that feeling in return._

_You know that my memory's not what it used to be, but I'm glad of that, in a way. I don't know if there ever was someone, but I don't remember anyone who ever made me feel like you do, like my heart's going to burst out of my chest just because you're in the room with me, like I can do anything and be anyone._

_I could never ask you this out loud, and I don't know if I want to know the answer, but I feel like you're the one person who loves me enough that, if I asked, you'd give up your mortality for me. I'm not asking you to do that, even if it were possible. I would never wish that on my worst enemy, much less the man I adore (you, in case you were wondering). But knowing that I think you'd do that for me makes me glow inside, so bright I can almost see it. What makes it better is that I think you know how much that means to me – how can anyone know me so well?_

_You make me feel like I'm worth it; like I'm the hero people seem to want me to be. Whenever I doubt myself, you're there in my mind encouraging me. I'd give you the moon and the stars if you asked for them, but you've never even asked for my heart. I gave you that anyway; moon and starts coming up._

_I am always and forever yours, until the last star goes out._

_Jack_

He emerged from the bedroom of Ianto's flat from putting their bags away. Instantly, Ianto span him around and shoved him against the hall wall, stealing his breath with a kiss that left him weak at the knees and clinging onto Ianto for support. "Ianto?"

Cupping his face, Ianto brushed their lips together more softly, licking at his lower lip to soothe away the bruising caused by his enthusiastic greeting. "I got your letter," he muttered against Jack's lips. "You sent it from Guernsey?"

"When we went out for dinner." Jack smiled and wrapped his arms tighter around Ianto, ducking his head to suck at Ianto's pulse point. "You liked it?"

Ianto's fingers combed through his hair and dug into his scalp, urging him on, and one of his legs wrapped around Jack's waist. "Jack," he whimpered.

"God, I love you," he moaned against Ianto's clavicle, tugging his shirt open and out of the way. "Mine."

"Yours," Ianto agreed, rubbing against him and using his heel to press Jack even closer. "Yours forever."

Jack sobbed and crushed their lips together again, sealing the promise.


	17. Autumn Festival

**Author's Note:** This is my favourite of the fills so far. I hope you like it.

* * *

"Mr Dalton's pumpkin just ate Mrs Schofield's terrier!" Angie announced as she burst through the cog door. She stared between them, whilst they watched her in bemusement, pens still in hands or fingers hovering over keyboards. "What?"

"First things first," Jack said slowly. "When did you start working here? Second, say that again?"

"Whilst you and Ianto were shagging each other's brains out," she answered the first first, beaming. "I caught a Weevil! And, um... Mr Dalton's pumpkin just ate Mrs Schofield's terrier."

"I thought that was what you said." He put his pen down and reached for his gun, whilst Ianto fetched his coat. "Thanks, Ianto. Where is it, and what, exactly, happened?"

"It's at St Winifred's church," she fell into step with them and waved to Gwen, who stayed where she was. "They're having their harvest festival, and everyone thought that Mr Dalton's pumpkin was a bit big. Apparently he usually wins, but this one is just incredible. That's what Sandra said, Ms Parkes, I mean."

"And it ate a terrier?"

"Yes, just before they awarded the prizes. Of course, he was disqualified, so Mr Adams won instead," she explained.

"Of course," Ianto murmured, deliberately avoiding catching Jack's eye. "It's cheating to enter a carnivorous pumpkin, gives you an unfair advantage."

"You know what this means, though, don't you?" she asked, then yelped, "Shotgun!"

"No, and no," Ianto glared at her and she sighed. "What does it mean?"

"It means we're in a Jasper Fforde book." Her expression was exactly colon capital D.

Jack and Ianto finally met each other's eyes and burst out laughing.

They pulled up outside the church and unbuckled their seatbelts. "Right, Angie, look curious. We'll go in pretending to be investigative journalists, okay?"

She nodded, and Jack turned to Ianto. "Good reporter, bad reporter?"

"Works for me," he agreed.

They made their way into the church and were brought up short by a shrill cry of, "Captain Harkness, thank G- goodness you've come!" A blonde-haired woman in her late twenties with a little girl on her hip swept towards him and took his arm to guide him into the church. "I called the police and asked for Torchwood, but they told me that Torchwood didn't exist, wouldn't listen when I told them that everyone knows Torchwood exists these days. I was about to drive down there and get you. Is that nice young man still in your front office?"

Jack looked back at Ianto and made puppy-dog eyes at him. "He's still with us, but he's not in the office."

She looked back the way Jack was looking and beamed in delight. "Ianto! How lovely to see you. I'll just get the Captain set up with Diedre, and then you and I need to have a good catch-up. Oh, is this your young lady?" her eyes narrowed on Angie.

Jack tugged on her arm to get her back on subject. "No, Ianto is my young man."

"I'm just his fag hag," Angie added, as if it were the best thing in the world to be. "You must be Sandra?"

"Oh! Angie, who I spoke to on the phone? Well... you could have told me, you know."

"Sandra," Jack steered her back on track. "We'll all go for coffee once this is dealt with, how's that?"

"Oh, of course. Poor Kiki," she switched to demure and sad instantly. "Such a lovely little dog, and poor Diedre. Kiki was her only companion since Martin... moved on."

"He died?"

"No, ran off with a student from Manchester. They were living in Bristol last I heard," she tutted. "Terrible thing. Anyway... Diedre, this is Captain Harkness, I told you that he'd be able to invest..."

"Yes, I know who Captain Harkness is," a middle-aged woman snapped at her, dabbing at her kohled eyes theatrically. "Oh Captain, is there any chance for poor Kiki?"

Sandra disengaged herself from Jack and swept back towards Ianto and Angie. "Dreadful old witch," she hissed. "Thinks she runs the church, just because she babysat for Malcolm and David's kids one time. Once! I've babysat them more times than I can count, and they return the favour."

"Malcolm and..." Ianto asked, before he realised that he probably didn't want to know.

"Oh, Malcolm's our vicar," she squeaked in delight and laid a hand on his arm. "Oh you must meet them, you'd get on so well. Come on, Malcolm's over here, and I think I saw David... David, here."

Ianto was dragged towards the vicar, who was standing at the front of the church and watching proceedings with a put-upon air, and appeared to be considering making a run for it. His partner came to the rescue, but not quite as successfully as Millie, Sandra's little girl, who started wailing and forced Sandra to beat a retreat. Ianto held out a hand. "Ianto Jones. Torchwood. Apparently it's gay men together."

Malcolm and David shook his hand. "Ianto, do you go to church?"

He groaned internally. "No, I haven't had the time for years, Torchwood doesn't really leave space."

David clapped him on the shoulder. "Wise man. Can I offer you some of the communion wine?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he grinned.

Jack joined them in the vicar's vestry some time later, looking rather shell-shocked and with smudges of lipstick on his cheek. "Ianto, do you think that wiping a year's worth of memories is a bit extreme for using alien Miracle Grow?"

Ianto blinked at him and offered him the communion chalice. "You look like you need a drink."

"Thanks," he took a sip and pulled a face. "What is that?"

"Holy Communion wine," Malcolm said seriously.

David held his hand out for the chalice. "Asda's cheapest port. You get used to the flavour eventually."

Jack shook his head. "Rather you than me. Anyway, I think we're finished here," his tone held a hint of rebuke for Ianto. "We'll just take the pumpkin with us and put it in the hothouse and..." he sighed, "accept the fact that everyone knows who we are."

Ianto stood up and kissed him. "Sorry. I'll help you get it out to the car. Hang on, though." He scribbled his phone number and email address onto a post-it note and attached it to Malcolm's chest. "We'll go for a drink of something that doesn't taste like shit sometime, yeah?"

"Ianto Jones, swearing in the house of the Lord?" Malcolm tutted.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "That was merely stating a fact, surely?"

"Granted. Have a nice day."

Out in the nave, Angie was tickling the pumpkin and giggling when it tried to snap at her. "I'm going to call it Gerald," she announced as they approached.

Jack nodded his agreement. "Okay. Mind if we put you in charge of the hothouse?"

"Not at all," she poked Gerald again and straightened up with one final pat. "We're taking him with us?"

"Well, it's either that or leave it here," Jack pointed out. "Can you navigate whilst Ianto and I carry?"

"Sure."

They got Gerald out to the SUV and settled in the boot, and Ianto drove him back to the Hub carefully. Angie disappeared as soon as they got there to add Sandra to her database of 'useful contacts', leaving Ianto and Jack to get Gerald settled into the hothouse. Ianto took the opportunity to water the other residents, and Jack sat back to play with a sentient orchid whilst he worked. "I've not been to a harvest festival since I left home," Ianto said at last. "I used to love them."

"Even the carnivorous pumpkins?" Jack asked, amused.

"There weren't so many of those at Mum's church," he admitted. "Lots of tins of Spam and slightly battered boxes of biscuits several months past their sell-by dates."

"And that one person who brings a properly amazing hamper, every year, but never puts anything into the collection?" Jack guessed.

"Yeah. Diedre," he pointed out.

Jack chuckled. "Yeah, Diedre. Poor Diedre, losing her husband like that, and then Kiki too."

"Kiki was a horrible little dog who bit the church children, and Diedre's husband might not have left if she hadn't been having it away with Mr Jones at the butcher's, no relation," Ianto told him. "Or so Malcolm told me."

"Hmm, you seemed to get quite chummy," Jack murmured, reaching out and pulling Ianto into his lap when he walked past. "Say hello to Flora."

"Hello to Flora," Ianto repeated dutifully, but tickled her anyway. He smiled down at Jack. "If I water you, will you grow?"

Jack laughed and squeezed his waist. "Am I not big enough for you?"

Ianto sighed and slapped his shoulder. "If you're not thinking with your dick, you're thinking about it."

"Yep, that's about it." Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. "We used to have a harvest festival, back home. I hadn't thought about it in years."

"Memories all shook up?" Ianto guessed, turning to kiss him.

"Yeah, I guess so. For the spring festival, all the town's children would stand in the middle of this square, with houses on each side, and the adults would all gather in the windows and throw water out on us, to make us grow," he smiled into Ianto's neck. "And then we'd run down the beach into the lake and have a huge water fight, all of us. Even the adults."

"No Easter Bunny?" Ianto asked.

"No... but there were these flowers that grew in the dunes, and the buds were sweet. The adults would pick them in the weeks before the festival and coat them with sugar, or something, I never quite understood it, and they'd tie them to the spring tree for us to pick them and eat them. And in return, we went into the dunes, all wet from the lake, and collect bunches and bunches of wild flowers to wind into garlands to decorate the town. When we came back with them, we'd be all covered with sand that had stuck to us, so we'd have to run down to the lake again to wash it all off."

"What about the harvest?" Ianto asked softly, winding his fingers through Jack's hair.

"It was a time of gathering, preparing for the storms that came in the winter. We wouldn't celebrate until we'd filled the stores with prepared food. Every day, the older residents, and anyone who wasn't fit enough to go out in the field and on the lake, would prepare the food we'd brought in the previous day, making soups and cheeses and stripping animal carcases to the bone, hanging the seaweed from the roof of the stores to keep, making everything as compact as possible, and ready to eat. The rest of us, the adults went out into the fields to harvest the crops, or onto the lake to catch fish, and a few of them would watch over us. We'd comb for miles around the lake each day, and never got close to seeing the other side, although we always hoped we would; it was our job to bring in the seaweed and shellfish that we could collect from the shallows, and the roots and berries that grew in the dunes and in the woodland a bit further down the coast of the lake.

"And then, when we'd collected enough to get through the winter, we stopped for a day and celebrated. All the excess food we'd brought in so far, we ate it that day in a huge party," Jack squeezed Ianto's waist and looked up at him. "That was one of the days that you bonded to your partner, if you chose to. Anyone who wanted to spend the next season with one person, or more, you made a vow for that season."

"Just for one season?" Ianto asked.

"You could repeat it," he pointed out. "But it was better than promising to be true forever, because it was an unbreakable vow."

"No divorce?"

"No divorce. It all happened in public too, so everyone knew who was bound to who." His lips drifted closer to Ianto's. "And then you took them back home and, whilst the rest of the town danced to celebrate your vows, you made love to them by the light of the autumn moon."

Ianto touched his lips to Jack's gently. "What was the vow?"

Jack licked his lips and closed his eyes. "I, Jack Harkness, vow to be yours, and that you are mine, for this turning of the year. That as long as this Autumn moon shines on us, we will be one. I will be your light during the dark days of the year."

Ianto's breath caught. "I, Ianto Jones," he started to repeat it, and Jack's eyes slammed open, but he didn't interrupt, "vow to be yours, and that you are mine, for this turning of the year. That as long as this Autumn moon shines on us, we will be one. I will be your light during the dark days of the year."

They both fell silent, breathing in synchrony and waiting for the moment to be broken. Jack was the first to lean forwards, and their lips met and moved together, soft and warm. "Thank you," he whispered at last.

Ianto smiled and framed his face with both hands. "Is there a vow to say, to hope to repeat your vows for the next season?"

Nodding, Jack took his hand and crossed it with his own, perpendicular and with their palms pressed together. "I'd paint my love in the stars, so let the turning of the year carry us on together 'til those stars go dark."

Ianto squeezed his hand. "I'd paint my love in the stars, so let the turning of the year carry us on together 'til those stars go dark."

Jack kissed the back of his hand and swallowed hard. "And now the sex bit."

"I think we can manage that," Ianto smiled.


	18. Pregnancy: First Ultrasound

**Author's Note:** So yes, the prompts sort of give away what's going to happen in the chapter, don't they? In this chapter, Gala messes with canon, just a bit.

We've fast forwarded a lot, to note.  


* * *

Time passed, as it often did. Autumn faded into Winter, Ianto snuck up on Jack under the mistletoe and made him repeat their vows, the anniversary of Tosh and Owen's deaths came and went with a public memorial for those lost, Easter came with a giant chocolate egg with the script for the next set of vows in it, Angie got herself a boyfriend at last, who was a doctor and a consideration for the vacant post at Torchwood, the boyfriend turned out to be spying on her and on them, got Jack killed and a bomb planted in his stomach, the Hub blew up, and then Ianto died in Jack's arms, glad that he'd nearly made it to the end of the Spring vow period, at least.

And then time kept moving on, and Ianto woke up in hospital in the company of a cheerful nurse and with a 40-a-day smoker's cough. She chattered on at him, but he couldn't really hear her properly, and fed him ice chips to cool his throat. As soon as he could, he croaked out, "Jack?"

She rested a hand on his shoulder to keep him down and nodded. "He won't be far away. I'll go and get him and Doctor Jones."

He grunted his acceptance and forced his eyes to stay open, even though they wanted to close and never open again. His reward was the sight of Jack careening into the doorway, relief flooding his face and warming Ianto through with its intensity. "Hey." He put his hands in his pockets, but not before Ianto could see that they were shaking, and sidled into the room. "Nice of you to rejoin us."

"I aim to please," he croaked. "Jack..."

"Ianto?"

He sighed and coughed, and Jack's expression turned worried, but he still didn't move. When he could speak through his coughing, he choked out, "Hug me?"

"Oh." Apparently Jack now needed to be invited, because he came over instantly, sat down on the bed next to Ianto and gathered him up, kissing his hair and his forehead and clutching onto him tightly. "Ianto, God..."

Ianto clung on as tightly as he could in his weakened state and burrowed his face into Jack's chest. "I'm sorry I scared you," he whispered.

Jack stroked across Ianto's back with gentle fingers, rocked them both slowly and buried his face in Ianto's hair. "I thought I'd lost you. It's over now, though," his voice broke and his grip on Ianto tightened. "It's over."

Ianto nodded and tried to curl even more into Jack, nuzzling against his chest and trying not to cough to break the moment. Unfortunately, and much to his chagrin, someone else did it for him, and Jack pulled back so that they could both look at the newcomer. Ianto smiled tiredly and rested his head on Jack's shoulder, keeping his arms around Jack's waist. "Martha, I thought you might be the Doctor Jones in question."

She smiled tiredly and approached them, reaching out to brush his hair back. "I came back as soon as I heard about the explosion in Cardiff, just in time to swan in here and take control of your care when you were brought in."

He nodded and snuggled in against Jack. "I don't want to sound ungrateful, but why am I alive?"

"It was one of Torchwood One's standard immunisations," Jack told him quietly, his hands brushing against the scars on Ianto's back from the Battle. "The virus induced unconsciousness and then a coma; you've been fighting it off for three days."

"And you..." Ianto looked up at him, but couldn't ask the question.

Jack's smile was brittle, lacking any of its usual brilliance, and there was a heavy grief behind his eyes that spoke of more pains than just his fear of losing Ianto. "Succumbed with the rest pretty quickly. It was fatal within twelve hours."

Martha stepped closer. "I'm sorry, Jack, but I need to check him over. I'll get it done, then I can leave you to talk."

He nodded and pulled back from Ianto. "Sure."

Ianto sat still whilst she ran the scan over him and half-listened whilst she talked about letting his lungs recover, about his throat being sore because he'd been on a respirator. How awful must that have been for Jack, to see him like that? Jack's touch didn't stay away for long; his arms soon crept around Ianto's waist again, just holding him lightly, and Martha let him stay there. When she nodded and made to leave, telling them that he just needed bed-rest and attention, Jack stopped her. "Martha, can I borrow that scanner?"

She hesitated, but held it out to him. "If I need it..."

"Just come and get it," he removed his arms from around Ianto to take it from her and turned it over in his hands. "I won't break it."

"I know you won't," she smiled. "Don't keep him up too long."

He nodded and she left, looking worried. As the door closed behind her, Ianto put his arms around Jack and held on again. "What's the matter?" he asked, gentling his touch and his words.

Jack swallowed and brought his arms back around Ianto almost reluctantly. "They murdered Steven."

Ianto bit back a gasp, knowing that Jack would worry, and tightened his arms. Jack's grip shifted, he dropped the scanner to the bed, and he clung to Ianto. "Bastards," Ianto whispered, shocked to his core.

Where he was resting his cheek against Jack's, Ianto could feel the first tears as they slipped down Jack's face cheek. "I told you that they arrested Alice? Well... Oh shit," for some reason, Jack swearing so violently was the most shocking thing about the situation. "Sorry. They... they figured out that they could use the same wavelength that the 456 were broadcasting on and send it back to them, crank up the volume and..."

"Overload their systems," Ianto guessed. "Fry their computers?"

Jack shuddered against him. "UNIT had to disintegrate their ship over Oxfordshire, it plunged out of orbit..."

Realisation slammed into Ianto and he shuddered. "And to send the signal back, they had to..."

"Yeah," Jack buried his face in Ianto's neck and sobbed. "He was ten, for fuck's sake. And I wasn't there."

Ianto cradled the back of Jack's head and tried to shush him. He didn't need to ask where Jack had been. "There was nothing you could have done," he reassured him. "They knew you couldn't die; they would have shot you to stop you if you'd protested." He shuddered again, guessing that they would have shot him even if they hadn't known he couldn't stay dead. "What about Alice?"

"She... She's safe. They're going to press charges, reveal it all as an alien invasion and make Frobisher, Johnson and Dekker scapegoats. Frobisher will carry the brunt."

"Why?" Ianto asked, guessing at the answer.

"He's dead. And his family. Murder-suicide," Jack told him, pulling back to wipe at his red eyes. "They were going to give his daughters to the 456, he would have been the only person who knew what his children were going to."

Like Alice surely did, Ianto thought, but didn't say. He snuggled closer to Jack, playing with his hair and pressing them as close together as possible to provide as much comfort as he could. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you," he whispered against Jack's neck. "I should have been here."

"You were," Jack joked feebly. "You were just out of it. I cried into your shoulder when they told me."

"Well," he curled his hand around the back of Jack's neck and sighed. "I'm glad I was of some comfort."

They clung to each other for a while longer, both trembling with the hideous shock of the last week: the loss of the Hub and the brutal way it had been destroyed, their lives ripped apart and nearly lost in Ianto's case, followed by the murder of an innocent child who was part of their family. It was all too much, especially for Jack, and Ianto felt him coming apart in his arms. Ianto stroked his hands down Jack's back, over his shoulders and through his hair, crushing and cradling him ever closer in an attempt at holding him together. When Jack finally drew back he looked like a mess, but he'd pulled his walls back together and was wearing his beautifully damaged mask. "I think there's something else you need to know."

Ianto just nodded. He didn't know if he could take many more surprises, but he could always pass out and blame it on his illness if it all got too much. "Something to do with that scanner?" he guessed.

Jack picked it up carefully and nodded. "Well, this will tell me if I'm right or not. I've been... exhausted," he confessed. "And irritable, and hungry. And I thought it was all because... because of..."

Ianto nodded and caught his vaguely waving hand, held it between both of his own and kissed his fingers. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. "You're not ill?"

"I... something like that." He took his hand back gently to operate the scanner, and focussed his attention in it to avoid looking at Ianto. "I think I'm pregnant."

"You think you're..." he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "You got blown up." Jack froze and his fingers tightened on the scanner, so Ianto continued. "You had to..." he swallowed bile. "And so... reset. Your hormone levels would go back to normal."

"My body stops thinking I'm pregnant and lets me get pregnant," he agreed quietly. "Are you going to be mad if it turns out we're right?"

He shook his head fiercely and wrapped his arms tight around Jack, pressing one hand to his stomach. "I wouldn't know if I were putting my hand in the right place on a woman," he confessed, "so I have no clue right now. But... is having a baby going to threaten your health?"

Jack shook his head. "I've done it before," he admitted softly. "A long time ago."

Ianto rested their foreheads together. "Then... how could I be mad that you're having our baby? It's a surprise... understatement of the year," he smiled and Jack chuckled. "But it's a nice surprise, for once."

Nodding, Jack pulled back to look at the device and activated it. Ianto covered his hand on it and, between them, they ran it over Jack's stomach and then brought it up between them again, and Jack pressed the button to play back the scan. There, on a blue and green screen – for whatever reason – was a strange image of Jack's insides, looking like something out of a late nineties computer game. And there, nestled low down so that they could only see it for a few seconds, was a darker green blob. "It must be the size of a pea," Ianto realised in shock. "If that. And this can..."

"Identify it as being not-me," Jack told him. "That's it. He won't have form or... anything for ages. He might be a she... He's not either at the moment."

Jack was looking as shell-shocked as Ianto felt, so Ianto did the only thing he could think of. He kissed him.


	19. Proposal

They were planning to make their summer vows bigger and more public, a true celebration of their relationship and a commitment to each other and to the future in the presence of their family and friends, and the inevitable crowd of journalists. Torchwood was out of the closet, aliens had been unveiled on the not-exactly-unsuspecting public and Jack and Ianto had been lauded as the romantic and tragic heroes of the fight, who had lost so much and so many over the years, but came back stronger each time, holding onto each other. Jack, in particular, was the press favourite, proof positive of an alien who wasn't there as a threat to Earth, but to protect it; a romantic fool who came seeking a refuge and stayed for the little planet he'd made his home and the man who'd stolen his heart.

Of course, that was mostly bollocks, but it had raised interesting questions among religious and moral campaigners about whether he should be able to marry a human, much less a human woman. So they were going to do their vows in public, and let the press romanticise it out of all proportion.

Ianto rested one hand and then both on Jack's waist, then slid them around to press against his stomach. He still wasn't showing much, just enough of a swell to be obvious if you knew him. "Hey," he greeted softly against the back of Jack's neck. "What are you up to?"

"Plans for the new Hub," he lifted them to show him. "The architects dropped them off whilst you were in the shower."

"Oh yeah?" he leaned into Jack more to look over his shoulder. "Any good?"

"It's shaped like a dragon."

"So... that's a no, then?" Ianto guessed.

"It's a no," Jack agreed. "Why can't they just _listen_ and design us a nice, practical base with everything we need and nothing we don't need? It should be so simple, but they're just..."

Ianto made a noise of agreement and wrapped his arms around Jack's waist properly. "It's not like we're asking them to build it into a volcano or anything."

"Are you being sarcastic?" Jack asked sharply.

"Just trying to make you smile," Ianto sighed, and turned Jack around to face him. "You're stressing out too much, and it's worrying me."

"Because of the baby?" Jack asked, with a certain level of rancour.

Ianto cupped Jack's face with his hands. "Because you never used to get this stressed about things. I worry, it's what I'm here for." He leaned in and kissed him. "I'm also here to present the solution. Let me have a look?"

Jack sighed and stepped aside. "Be my guest. Can we taser them?"

"No, Jack," he chided absently. "It's frowned upon. You know, we could make it more complicated for them?"

"What do you mean?" Jack leaned forwards.

"Like... we gave them a really wide brief, and they gave us dragons and planets and God knows what else," he gestured to the pile of discarded plans. "What if we tightened it down, so that we'd get something we want?"

"Like..."

"Like..." he grabbed a pen and paper and started sketching. "Like in the shape of the Torchwood hexagon. A lower level like this, with an open area in the T, stairs here above it, and offices or a medical suite or things here. Archives leading off the stem of the T out the bottom... And on the upper level, walkway around there, and two more rooms up there. Maybe the conference room? I liked having the conference room on an upper level."

Jack grinned, his good humour fully returned. "It's better for conference table sex with glass walls." Ianto sighed but didn't deny it. "But you're right, it's just better up there." He picked up Ianto's pen and started making annotations to his scribbled drawing. "We could have the armoury there, labs down there... computer suite would be best in there. And we should get a proper suite set up, with a kitchen and bathroom and a sitting room, as well as a bedroom." He looked up and realised that Ianto was staring at him again. "What?"

Licking his lips, Ianto ducked his gaze and ran his hand through his hair again. "Marry me."

"I... pardon?"

"I said 'marry me'," Ianto repeated, refusing to meet Jack's gaze. "I mean I know we... well I think we are but... the law doesn't, and I'd like to... Help?"

"You want to make it legally official?" Jack checked. "Like... proper legal real?"

"Um, yep," he huffed and turned away even more. "You know, with the baby on the way, and the public eye on us, and we have the chance, which we didn't even five years ago," he looked up at Jack with wide eyes. "I just... feel like..."

Jack took his hands and squeezed them. "Ianto, is this something you feel we should do, or do you want it?"

"Yes," he said in a shocked tone. "Yes... yes, I want it. I want to be your..." he scrunched up his nose, "Civil Partner."

"Husband," Jack corrected quietly.

Ianto blushed and chanced a glance up to Jack's eyes and away again. "I've been calling myself that for a while, even if not out loud."

"You..." Jack cursed his own hormones and threw himself into Ianto's arms. "I love you."

Ianto held him tight and kissed him. "Was that by any chance a yes?"

It was a yes.


	20. Baby Shower

Gwen and Jack sat side-by-side on the sofa in the new Hub, watching the busy work going on around them. As Jack had got bigger and less mobile, increasingly pained by cramps and nearly intolerable pressure, he'd had to take a step back from the preparations for reinvigorating Torchwood and trust Ianto to do everything, whilst he spent more days in bed or on the sofa than he did mobile. For his part, Ianto did his best to spend as much time with Jack as possible to provide a distraction and helpful massages when required, setting up his computer in their bedroom or the living room, wherever Jack wanted to be.

Today was a better day, though; Jack had been showing signs of cabin fever for a week, during which time it had thrown it down with everything the Welsh weather could produce, including the occasional clatter of hailstones as the Winter blew itself out, but it had finally cleared enough that Ianto had seized his chance and dragged Jack out of the house to sit on a different sofa, and persuaded Gwen to join them to watch the progress.

Jack rested his hands, fingers laced together loosely, on the swell of his stomach, laughing softly when Gwen mirrored his pose exactly and nudged him with her elbow. "When did Ianto take over?" she asked, grinning.

He huffed and shook his head. "I think it was turning 26 that did it to him."

She was silent for a second, and broke it by swearing softly and dropping her head back. "I forgot he was so young. Do you think he's had the chance to be young properly?"

"I think he has," Jack murmured, dropping his voice in response to Ianto's return. "Not enough, but he went to university, after all. And Torchwood One wasn't a bad environment to work in if you avoided the politics."

"Just us, then," Gwen surmised sadly.

Jack shook his head and watched his husband cross the floor with another box of archive folders. "He lived through the Battle. Seeing that, it changes you. And then us."

Their hands, almost in synchrony, flattened protectively, fingers splaying wider. Jack smiled at the action and tipped his head back. "I just want to be a normal dad. Drop my kids at school in the morning, pick them up in the afternoon, play football with them after school, feed them ice cream so that they're hyper and their tad glares at me but doesn't really mean it, spend the evening cuddled up on the sofa with him whilst they play on the floor. And then they'd get embarrassed when they get older. I think she's going to be an only child, though. And..."

She reached out and covered his hand with her much smaller one, squeezing gently. "You could, you know. You could retire whilst you have them and come back after, have another kid or two..." he shot her a dark, devastated look and she sighed, dropping her head back to match his. "Yeah, me neither. You'll look after Rhys and Catherine, won't you?"

"As long as they'll look after me and Concept," he promised.

One eyebrow raised in an imitation of Ianto's expression when he'd first heard the name. "You've chosen a name? It's... different."

"I've chosen a name," he explained. "Ianto hasn't. Ianto doesn't even want to know if it's a boy or a girl, so... she's just a concept."

"She? Definitely..."

He nodded and chuckled slightly. "We're going to have the name argument when she's here."

"And he doesn't..." she squeaked in excitement and squeezed his hand even tighter. "So, are you having a baby shower?"

"A what?" he raised his head enough to blink at her.

"A baby shower. You don't know what a baby shower is?" He shook his head and she slapped the back of his hand. "It's a big party, thrown for expectant parents for people to give them gifts to help with raising the baby. No one's doing you one?"

"No," he replied cautiously, feeling like this was about to change. "Ruth's organising a family christening, and then we'll take her to the beach to do the tradition from my home with just the two of us and Ruth."

She frowned slightly. "You need to have a party for it. Everyone wants to celebrate with you."

"That's... just it, Gwen," he sighed and raised one hand to rub at his eyes. "Everyone wants to know exactly what's going on with our lives and... we just want it to be a private affair. After the wedding, we can't put a child through that, can we?" She shook her head and grimaced. "We're just looking forwards to getting her home safely."

"Of course," she said softly. "I'm sorry, pet."

"That's okay." He shook his head and sighed. "Do you enjoy being pregnant?"

Gwen giggled. "You miss Ianto sitting in your lap, don't you?"

"Yes," he was too serious in response to her teasing question. "I miss holding him, and having him sprawl on top of me in the night, and sex..."

"Oh honey," she pressed her fingers to her lips and tried not to laugh. "Is it..."

"Really awkward," he agreed. "And painful, and dangerous. I mean... we're not celibate."

"Well, no." She agreed, for something to say in the face of the potential for unprecedented amounts of information about her boss's (or possibly bosses's by this stage) sex life. Unprecedented, but not unwelcome.

"And he has the imagination to make up for it," Jack continued, "and it's fantastic but... long story cut short for our current audience," he patted his stomach, "Owen owes Tosh a tenner."

Gwen blinked past the regret and pain, forcing her mind back to discussions of the sexual activities of the two amorous members of the team and a bet. She nodded thoughtfully. "Yep, I had a feeling she'd be right." Patting his leg she tried to hide her smile again. "Fortunate, really. 'Cos Ianto is definitely a top."


	21. Erotic Feeding

**Author's Note:** I've tried to make it realistic as a male pregnancy, so it's a bit uncomfortable here.

I've based Jack's hormonal situation on that of Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, where the hormone imbalance can persuade your body that you're pregnant so you don't ovulate (six months without periods until I finally went to the doctor and found out what was wrong = bliss) /overshare. It's also how the Pill works, but (in my head) Jack's system is more sensitive to the hormone fluctuations, so his hormone levels are normally too high to get pregnant, and to let him get anyone else pregnant as a sort of insurance. His hormone levels are being monitored carefully, which isn't mentioned in the story, and this is pretty much their one chance to have a biological child, unless they go off-world or into the past ofr a while to let him detox fully.

In other news, I've set up a Facebook page for my fanfiction as a sub account, because it means that I can hide it from potential employers and from my parents and university, things like that. If you want to add it (or me in general) it's under Galadriel1010, of course, and I'm the one with a picture of a small child with a painted face and a pout.

* * *

Jack was on the sofa in the living room, securely propped by pillows and cushions and snuggled under the duvet from their bedroom, hugging a pillow to his chest miserably. Spring had come with bright flowers and baby birds, chocolate rabbits in gold foil and gradually warming weather; and Jack was indoors almost every day, often alone because Ianto had to keep an eye on things at the new Hub. Whilst male pregnancy was possible – and he and Concept were living proof of that – it would never be a pleasant experience for the carrier, even with medical facilities developed to cope with it. Trapped in the twenty-first century, treated as a loveable freak by the media and often abandoned by his husband, Jack was miserable and in discomfort bordering on pain most of the time.

He'd tried to hide it from Ianto as much as he could; he had too much on his mind already, and there was very little he could do to help. Admittedly, a little more of his company would have been appreciated, but he was spending as much time at home as he could, working nights so that he was at home whilst Jack was awake and Jack could sleep whilst he was gone.

The kitchen door opened and Ianto emerged with a tray full of small bowls. He set it down on the table carefully and settled into Jack's open arms, running his hands over Jack's stomach and sides, everywhere he could reach, knowing that it eased some of the strain. "Hey." He kissed Jack gently and rested their foreheads together, one arm lifting to wrap around Jack's shoulders and the other holding his swollen stomach, protecting and supporting it. "How are you feeling?"

Jack dropped his head onto Ianto's shoulder, felt Ianto kiss his hair gently, and sighed. "Enormous, and sore."

Ianto's hand started rubbing again. "Where are you sore?"

"My back," he shrugged to indicate it. "Shoulders particularly. I think I've been hunching them."

With a small nod, Ianto wormed his way out of Jack's embrace and got up to stand behind the sofa. He pushed Jack's shoulders forwards and ran the palms of his hands across them in broad sweeps, from the base of his neck right across to the joint, then started massaging them firmly. "This better?"

Jack sounded more pitiful than he would have liked when he moaned his agreement, but at least it sounded affirmative. "Ianto, please don't leave me on my own any more?" He hadn't meant to ask, but once it had escaped, and there was no taking it back, he needed Ianto to agree.

Ianto's hands stilled on his shoulders. "I can't promise that," he said quietly, aoft and apologetic. "But I'll do my best."

"Thank you," Jack reached up to cover one of his hands and leaned his head against Ianto's other wrist. "I know you're doing so much already. I just miss you when you're out."

"You're my priority," Ianto told him, resuming his massaging of Jack's shoulders. "You come before everything. If you're even not okay with me going out, or anything, just tell me and I'll find a way. Now..." he slid his hands down over Jack's shoulders and pulled him back into the sofa gently. "You couldn't eat all your lunch?"

Jack shook his head and thought of the sandwich that Ianto had made for him and left within easy reach; he'd managed half of it but, whilst his mind had wanted the rest, he just couldn't eat that much any more. By the time he'd been able to eat again, it had gone cold. "I got as much as I wanted," he said, not wanting to worry Ianto.

"Hmm," Ianto sounded unconvinced. "Hungry again now?"

He was, and the covered bowls on the tray were intriguing him. "A bit. Won't be able to face much, though."

"I thought of that," Ianto told him. "Humour me."

"Uh oh," Jack said lightly, whilst Ianto walked around the sofa again and dangled a silk blindfold from his fingers. "He's had an idea."

Ianto rested one hand on either side of Jack's shoulders and lowered himself carefully so as not to put any of his weight on Jack, kneeling with his knees straddling Jack's legs. He ducked his head to kiss Jack gently, resting the hand that held the blindfold against Jack's cheek and stroking his face softly. "Do you trust me?"

"Always," he said, without having to consider it.

After kissing him once more, Ianto pulled back and Jack rested his hands on his waist to steady him. He stroked the blindfold between his fingers to smooth it out and pressed it against Jack's eyes gently, then ran his fingers along it around Jack's head until they met at the back, where he gathered the loose ends together and tied them off. "Can you see?" Jack shook his head? "And it's not too tight?" Another shake. "Good."

Ianto's close presence disappeared and Jack could hear him moving about, then the tray was set carefully on his lap. On Ianto's instruction he opened his mouth and felt Ianto's fingers brush against his lips gently, then something touched his tongue. He closed his lips, flicking his tongue against the tips of Ianto's fingers before he could withdraw them and smiled. "Roast salted peanuts?"

"High in salt and fat," Ianto answered, brushing his unseen fingers against Jack's lips again. "Open."

He did, and Ianto's fingers just managed to escape this time. "Banana. Potassium."

"And sugar. You're getting the idea," Ianto told him. "Any idea what else you might get?"

He considered it and licked his lips. "Protein, or Vitamin C? Egg or orange?"

Ianto laughed and kissed him again, a pleasant surprise. "You got two of the dietary requirements, but only one of the foods. Any more guesses?"

"Strawberries?" he guessed, reaching out for Ianto again carefully so as not to dislodge the tray. He opened his mouth when Ianto's finger touched his lips and lifted the segment of orange from his fingers delicately. "Orange."

"You got that one already," Ianto pointed out. "Here we go." He let his fingers linger this time, and Jack sucked them into his mouth, nibbling, licking and sucking on them, coating them in rapidly melting chocolate and then cleaning them off again. Ianto gave a guttural moan which fanned the glow of the flame within Jack. "Good for your serotonin levels."

"Do you know what else is good for my serotonin levels?" Jack asked in a cracked purr.

Ianto laughed and kissed him again. "Good things come to those who wait, I promise."

Jack nodded and surrendered himself to Ianto's whim, letting Ianto feed him, touch him and kiss him as he wanted to, and just trusted Ianto to take care of him. Blindfolded as he was, he had no way to measure the passage of time except in how much he'd eaten which, dragged out over a long period as it was, was more than he'd been able to eat in one sitting for a couple of weeks. Cheese, ham, chicken, grapes, tomatoes and sliced pepper, as well as the foods he'd already had, were fed to him in no particular order or discernible pattern.

Eventually, though, there came a point when he really couldn't eat any more, so Ianto took the tray from his lap and set it out of the way somewhere. He left the blindfold on, though, and Jack didn't try to remove it himself, so he was denied his sight, reliant on sound, touch and his imagination to fill in the gaps as Ianto pulled down the elasticated waistband of his loose trousers, stroked his fingertips over the sensitive skin of Jack's inner thighs, ghosting touches up his heavy, heated shaft before firming his touch and adding his mouth to the task.

He wished that he could see Ianto, see his eyes dark with lust and bright with love, cheeks flushed, hair tousled, lips swollen from kissing and stretched around him. Needing to hold Ianto, to touch in some way, he reached out blindly with one hand and squeezed tightly when it was caught and held in one of Ianto's. They shifted their grip, lacing their fingers together, and Jack relied on the connection to anchor him when Ianto finally tipped him over the edge. He felt Ianto moving around as he came down from the high, tucking him back in and snuggling against his side, rubbing at his stomach to ease the cramps that the tension had caused with one hand whilst the other tugged at the knot on the blindfold to remove it.

Jack kept his eyes tight shut against the sudden brightness and turned his head to the side. Ianto cupped the back of his neck and met him in a gentle kiss, a continuation of everything that tonight had been – nothing had been about sex, even when Ianto was on his knees between Jack's legs, it had been Ianto making love to him from the moment he'd sat down next to Jack on the sofa. "I love you. So damn much," he whispered into Ianto's jaw. "Never forget that, never let me forget..."

Ianto brushed a thumb across his cheek and followed it with gentle kisses. "Never could, never would. I am yours, and you are mine, all the turnings of the year," he promised.

"Until the stars go dark," Jack vowed.


	22. Pregnancy

**Author's Note:** She's here! Baby arrival time.

I've signed up to another bingo card like the one that prompted this story and, rather than fill it with another full story like this, I've put the list of all the prompts up on my LiveJournal (Fiwen1010) for claiming as gift stories. If you'd like one, feel free to claim one.

* * *

"You're going to be absolutely fine," the UNIT midwife told him, smiling warmly. "Doctor Morris has delivered children to parents with much stranger anatomies than yours, she'd be able to do it with her eyes closed."

"Well, I hope she'll keep them open," he quipped back, less strongly than he would have liked, hands clasped around his own knees to hide that his palms were sweating. "Although at least if she did, Ianto would be the first to see the little one."

"Sorry, Jack," Ianto's hand was warm and gentle, splayed between his shoulder blades, and his voice matched it, "I'll do anything for you, but I am not going to be watching her operate."

"I'll do anything for love, but I won't do that?" Jack asked, smiling, as he turned to look at Ianto. "I might let you off."

"Good," he rubbed at Jack's back and smiled at him. "Now would be a bad time to fall out."

Jack smiled down at his lap and leaned into Ianto's chest, resting his head against his shoulder when his arms slid around him fully. They were waiting for the operating theatre to be prepared, and for the local anaesthetic to take effect on Jack. Already he was feeling less sore and cramped than he had in a long while, the pressure not easing, but his awareness of it dimmed. He was in a wheelchair, ready to be taken through, and Ianto was next to him on one of the hard plastic seats provided for waiting families who spent most of their time pacing anyway. Ianto rested his cheek against Jack's forehead and held him carefully. The last two nights had been the absolute worst: sleep caught where they could between increasingly painful cramps and pressure; Jack couldn't move from the bedroom without using a wheelchair, and his appetite, normally a terrifying thing to behold, was scaring Ianto for entirely the opposite reasons when he couldn't eat more than a couple of bites of anything.

Finally, Doctor Morris had agreed that they had reached a point where Jack carrying any longer would do more harm to their still-unborn child than it helped her development – although Ianto was still sticking his fingers in his ears and singing whenever anyone started talking about gender – and had fairly rushed them to the UNIT facility closest, where they had the run of the advanced medical equipment and a private ward, and where the gawking paparazzi were banned from the site.

Jack lifted one hand from his knee and laid it almost nervously over Ianto's, feeling irrational relief when Ianto turned his hand and laced their fingers together to hold on as tightly as Jack was doing. They'd nearly made it to nine months; nine months of Jack getting bigger, less mobile, more stressed, tireder and almost constantly scared for the baby he was carrying. They'd had middle of the night panics and elations from body-racking cramps and baby's first kick; days of surly silence from Jack and worried but silent care from Ianto, and then flipped it around to the point where Ianto had gone to work and stayed there for three days and left Jack on his own, confined to the house but still mobile at that point; thoughtless invasions of their privacy from the media and the government left them on edge, whilst a stream of messages of good will and wishes from the general public nearly overcame them with bewildered joy. The Catholic church condemned them, the Church of England couldn't make up its mind, and the United Nations praised them.

They had laughed and cried, fought and loved, tumbling together, head over heels. Head over heels in love. He turned his head to look at Ianto and found Ianto looking back at him. Leaning in, he found Ianto's lips with his own and tried to pour everything he felt, everything they'd shared over the last few years, everything he'd clung to through his hells, and everything he hoped for from the future, into the gentle press of lips, stroking tongues, shared breaths and swallowed whimpers. "I love you," he whispered without pulling away, "and it means so much to me to have had the chance to carry your child."

"Our child," Ianto corrected. "A little bit of you, and a little bit of me. Together."


	23. Kidfic

**Author's Note:** So this one is nearly finished (unlike that Tourism essay I was supposed to be doing yesterday...) just two more chapters to go. I've got plenty more stories to go up when this is done, though.

This story was prompted by schmoop_bingo, which is a LiveJournal community challenge where you sign up and get a 5x5 grid, and each square has a different prompt. You can, like with Bingo, get a horisontal, vertical or diagonal line, a cross, an envelope (around the edges and a diagonal cross) or a blackout (all twenty five). I'm just about to start on my new bingo square, trying for another blackout, so please have a look at my LiveJournal if you'd like a personalised story - there's also an unstarted kiss_bingo card to choose from.

And if you'd like to take part, there's still time, I think, to request a card for schmoop_bingo.

Email me if you want the details, because the site will remove links from PMs.

* * *

Right on cue, a hiccup from the crib in the corner warned Jack that Mirabelle was waking up and gave him enough time to slide out of bed and collect her before she started crying properly and woke Ianto. He cradled her against his shoulder, his huge hands dwarfing her tiny body, and murmured soothingly whilst he kissed her head, barely covered by dark downy hair. Her tiny fingers latched into his T shirt and she grumbled sleepily, but he knew that he had a couple of minutes to get her down to the kitchen and start feeding her before she started screaming properly.

He released one hand for long enough to tug the duvet back up over Ianto, who was still sleeping deeply, and crept from the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Down in the kitchen he put the formula on to warm up and swayed gently whilst he waited for it, murmuring half-remembered snatches of songs that kept her quiet for as long as it took for him to prepare her bottle and settle down in an armchair in the darkened living room with Mirabelle settled in the crook of his elbow.

She accepted the bottle happily – one tiny hand latching around his little finger to hold it in place whilst the other remained fixed in his T shirt – and the living room was filled with the sounds of quietly contented sucking and his soft encouragements. Her eyes remained open, bright blue and sparkling up at him, dark lashes a blur against pale skin; time would tell whether she'd inherit his deeper blue or Ianto's lighter shade, his wavy brown hair or Ianto's wildly curling black locks. She was a little bit of both of them and, in Jack and Ianto's eyes at least, absolutely perfect.

Jack leaned back in his armchair and watched her, utter adoration burning like a fire in his chest. He found it hard to believe that his life had changed so much so fast, that only a couple of days ago he was heavily pregnant and bed-ridden, and now there was this tiny, perfect little girl in his arms, with her tad curled up in their bed upstairs where he'd curl back into Jack without waking up as soon as Jack got back into bed. Somewhere in the last few years, his life had gone absolutely, perfectly right, and the life that surrounded him was the proof of that.

Mirabelle grumbled and yanked on his finger, and he took the nearly empty bottle away from her, put a cloth against his shoulder and rested her against it, getting up and walking around the room whilst he rubbed her back to burp her. She clung to his T shirt again and yawned, then burped up onto the carefully placed cloth. Smiling fondly, he pulled it out of the way and threw it into the washing machine, then resumed his pacing around the house until she fell asleep and he could put her back to bed.

"Is she asleep again?" Ianto asked from the bed, groggy in his half-awake state.

Jack kissed Mira's forehead and smiled softly, then left her and crawled back under the duvet with Ianto, shucking his T shirt on the way. He pulled Ianto into his arms and closed his eyes. "Like a log, like you should be."

"Mmm, can sleep now," he slung an arm over Jack's torso and hooked his ankle with Jack's, and tucked his head under Jack's chin. "Better."

Jack smiled. "Best."


	24. Adoption

**Author's Note:** The Internet is remarkably silent on what the actual mechanics of adoption are, and I didn't have anyone I could ask, so this chapter is entirely based on what I learned from Tracey Beaker on CBBC. As a result, most of the details are handwaved.

* * *

Mirabelle stood on Ianto's lap and held onto his hair to keep her balance. He had his hands on her waist and gave Jack a long suffering look that Jack had come to interpret as 'your daughter' over the last three years. "Bell, go to your dad sweetheart," he urged her gently, turning her towards Jack. "I need to stretch my legs."

Jack lifted her up and held her above his head. "Simba," he boomed, making her squeal with laughter. "Good grief, Simba, you're getting too heavy, have we been feeding you?" he dropped her to his lap and trapped her against his chest with one arm, tickling her with the other. "Have we, Bell? Have we been feeding you?"

She squealed and leaned away from him, reaching for Ianto. "Tad, Tad!"

He was looking at a painting on the far wall, and turned back to look at her curiously. "What's the matter, Bell?"

"Daddy," she laughed, trying ineffectually to grab Jack's tickling hand and pushing at his arm with her other hand. "Taddy, help!"

"Daddy's the problem?" he gasped in feigned shock. "Well, I've been saying that for a while, haven't I, sweetheart. Do you think we should gang up on him."

"Yes!"

"Oh no..." Jack stopped his assault and hugged her to him, watching Ianto warily. "No no no."

"No?" Ianto checked. "Do you think you should be spared?"

The door at the end of the waiting room saved Jack and they looked up at the young man holding the door open for them. "Jack and Ianto?" he checked.

"And Mirbell!" Mirabelle yelled, scrambling up in Jack's lap. He held her down, though, and she settled. "I come too!"

"And Mirabelle, of course," he smiled and came forwards to greet them. "I'm David, I'll take you through to Christine and Andrew."

"Thanks, David," Ianto shook his hand. "I'm Ianto, the one beset by infant is Jack, and the infant you're met."

David laughed. "She's got herself quite a reputation already. Now, if you'd like to follow me."

He led them down a long corridor to a small, cozy meeting room with sofas clustered around a low coffee table, and coffee and tea making supplies on a matching table against the wall. A young boy, only a couple of years older than Mirabelle, was sitting on one of the sofas next to a woman who looked like everyone's favourite maiden aunt. They both smiled when Jack and Ianto entered, and some of the boy's nervousness disappeared behind it. "Heya," he smiled and swung his legs.

Christine stood up to greet them and to borrow Mirabelle for a cuddle; Mirabelle often had that effect on people. "Big day, guys. I hope you've got them all organised, Mirabelle."

She nodded seriously and stuck her thumb in her mouth in response, and Ianto took her back from Christine. Jack took her place on the sofa next to Andrew and returned his shy smile with an equally shy one of his own. "Hey, how you doing?" he asked quietly.

Andrew shrugged and ducked his head. "I'm okay. How are you?"

Jack hugged him carefully and Andrew seemed to melt into him, disappearing into Jack's embrace. "Better now," Jack told him, smiling over his head at Ianto. "Ready to come home with us?"

He nodded firmly and peeped out at Ianto. "Really?"

"Yep, we're all yours," Ianto sat on his other side and supported Mirabelle carefully. "Well, I think you're one of Belle's boys now, if we're being accurate."

He laughed and detached himself from Jack to hug Mirabelle and let Ianto cuddle him. "What do you think, Bellie? Can I come home with you?"

"Yes!" she cried joyfully, then stopped to consider it. "And ice cream."

Jack just nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Christine smiled at them all happily. "If you're ready, Andrew, you should say goodbye to everyone before you go; they'll want to see you off."

"Okay, Chris," he slid off the sofa and reached out for Jack's hand. She rested a hand on his head and used it to push him towards the door. "Go on, new life ahead of you. Don't miss us too much."

"We'll let you know how he's getting on," Ianto promised, hoisting Mirabelle up against his shoulder. "You're getting too big for this, missus," he chided.

Jack and Ianto stood in the doorway of the front common room with Mirabelle and Christine, watching Andrew saying his goodbyes to the other children at the home. He hadn't been there long, but childhood friendships formed as fast as they fell apart, and there were more than a couple of glum faces. In the car, he waved madly until the house was out of sight, then settled down in his seat. Jack, who was driving, looked over his shoulder briefly. "Say, Andrew, do you think this deserves a celebration?"

His face split in a grin. "Pizza hut?"

"I'll take that as a yes," Jack laughed. "Welcome to the family, Andrew."


	25. Kidfic: Holiday

**Author's Note:** Here we go, the final chapter of this story. I've already got a few ideas for fills, and I am very open to requests. Thank you so much for reading, especially those of you who've reviewed and made me squeak with happiness. Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow morning (for me) for the new chapter of Just A Mistake.

* * *

Ianto steered the kids through the crowds towards the baggage console, keeping tight hold of their hands. "Don't wander off," he warned Mirabelle, who was tugging at his arm. "There's too many people around."

"Dad's here," she told him, tugging hard. "Look!"

Sure enough, Jack was standing out of the way of the crowd with a pile of bags, waving to get their attention, so Ianto let Mirabelle and Andrew drag him through the crowd. They both hugged Jack at once. "Heya kids, miss me?" he asked, hugging them back. "How was the flight?"

Andrew grinned and tucked his head under Jack's arm. "I watched Top Gear, and Bell was sick."

"Don't tell tales!" she cried in affront. "I was not sick!"

"She was," Ianto confirmed, brushing her hair back carefully. "But she was okay. Just flight sickness, excitement and two packs of Polo mints."

"I'm sorry," Jack said, not sounding it. "I won't leave you to do flights on your own again."

"You said that last time," he pointed out without rancour, "and there still wasn't a way around it. I can cope. We had fun, didn't we?"

Mirabelle nodded seriously. "I watched the penguin movie. It was funny."

Ianto made a 'don't ask me, not a clue' face and nodded to the bags. "You got everything? Thought you weren't allowed past here?"

"Yeah," Jack picked up the kids' bag before Ianto could. "I waved my ID and told them that you were coming through with two small children, so they gave me a special dispensation."

"How was the conference? And what's the weather like?" Ianto asked, shouldering his own bag and gripping Mirabelle's shoulder to steer her through the crowd. "Found stuff for us to do?"

"Interesting, glorious, and yes," Jack led the way out through security, talking as he went. "The hotel is fantastic, I've been using the pool and the gym every morning and in the evenings when I can. And it's only ten minutes from the beach in one direction and from the centre of town in the other direction. There's a couple of museums that look interesting, and a restaurant I want to take you to."

They were brought to a halt by the queue to get through the last security hurdle, and Ianto used the opportunity to pull Jack close and kiss him again, ignoring Mirabelle's giggles. "I missed you," he told Jack softly. "You're not allowed to go away without me again. I'll come next time, we'll figure something out."

"Yep. Moving again," he pointed out, pulling away from Jack and collecting Mirabelle. "Bell, if you stick to us like glue and don't wander off, I'll take you horse riding, okay?"

Ianto smiled fondly and ushered his family out into the warm California sunshine. They had two weeks here with no responsibilities but those to each other, no worries but the weather, and a hotel suite courtesy of UNIT provided to ensure Jack's attendance at the week long conference that had just finished. He laced his fingers through Jack's and sighed happily. Life was good.


End file.
